And I see you, as you are
by The AU No-Bashing Writer Alive
Summary: A different manifestation of 'the power he knows not'. Canon!Dumbledore, Death-Eater-and-then-cured-but-mistrusted!Snape Main characters: Harry P., Longbottoms, Draco and Narcissa BLACK, Tonkses, Kingsley S., Alastor M., Sirius B., Remus L., Hermione G. at the current stage. Very slightly super-Harry. Canon-ish Plothole-ish-ness abounds. Eventual DM/LL(OC), HP/HG, NL/DG, SB/BB.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

A hooded figure was making its way across the small village of Godric's Hollow in Wales on the Halloween night of 1981. His features would have easily won him any good prize for costumes, were it not for the fact that it wasn't a costume. This was the result of the great evil that Tom Marvolo Riddle had sunken himself into on his way to immortality and to the persona that was Lord Voldemort. He was a wizard, once a role model to his fellows during his school days. Yet that had been a mask, just as his ideals for a world where purebloods had enforced all other humans into subservience were a mask that had found eager servants- Death Eaters- who deluded themselves into thinking of themselves as his friends. The monster's true ambition was immortality, and tonight he had come to eliminate a prophesied foe- but a baby- aided by the betrayal of the family by a friend who was considered as close as a brother.

With as much compunction as an idle man with a fly-swatter, he murdered the parents of his foe. Had he stopped to think and controlled his bloodlust, he would have found himself incapable of harming the child, courtesy the sacrifice of the mother. But as the frenzy possessed him, and he took aim at the now bawling and frightened baby- which was thinking of the animals that would come to play with him and did not like this new creature- he was struck by the intensity of the of the teary green-eyed gaze and felt for a second as if his very magic and soul were being judged. He cocked his neck to a side, and then with a mirthless smile of his lipless mouth, he drew aim again. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" the curse came. Only, he knew pain as his body smouldered to nothingness, leaving the intended victim with a distinctive scar.

As the explosion rocked the small cottage, a small, blue eyed man watching with building anticipation, transformed into a rat and scampered of. Little did he know, that the two last, seemingly disjointed thoughts of the two adversaries would mean far too much in the future, including the rat's own.

Sirius Black was looking at the devastation in front of him with a sense of desolation that he could not shake. He had checked with Peter Pettigrew's hiding place after salvaging whatever was left of the house, and rescuing his godson (who he had to hand over to the gentle half-giant, Hagrid on his headmaster's orders); he had come to the one conclusion that he had desperately hoped was untrue- Peter was the spy that Dumbledore had spoken of, and Sirius had unwittingly handed his true family, his brother in all but blood to the self-same spy. His grey eyes glinted with the hatred and grief that pulsed through him, and in his rage he left behind all his sanity and reason and pursued Peter Pettigrew. That turned out to be the last thing he would do for ten years, besides cringing with mind-numbing cold and fear in the wizard prison- Azkaban.

In Devon, a precocious five year old boy picked up a slightly squirming grey rat with a scar across its back and a toe missing. Oddly enough, it had watery blue eyes. Shrugging, he carried it home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Ten years later**

To the inhabitants of the Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, Number 4 was the cast mould of the archetypal _normal_ home. The family consisted of the Dursleys; a large beefy man, his horse-faced wife, and (to put it mildly) obese son. The house also had one more inhabitant. Petunia Dursley's nephew, Harry Potter was a part of the household- not the family. For all the normalcy that the Dursleys' strove to portray, their nephew's presence hindered the facade completely. He was truly different. Whenever the situation surrounding him went bad, odd things would happen. The reason was simple. Unbeknownst to him, his magic reacted to these situations. Harry Potter was a _wizard,_ though he didn't know it.

The wizard in question was currently deep in a dream that was as regular in its occurrence as the phases of the moon- indeed it was always the full moon night, in reality as well as in the land of nod. A large brown wolf, a seemingly terrifying dog, a stately stag and a blue-eyed grey-brown rat would always play beneath the moon. Then there would come a doe and a tigress, who would condescendingly shake their heads (a bit indulgently too) at the other four creatures. All of a sudden, a chill would creep upon the dreamer as the rat would scamper apart only to be caught by a horrid, poisonous white snake. The two would then stealthily approach the others when the snake would bite the doe and stag. The rat would then bite the dog as the wolf and the tigress would grieve.

It was always at this that Harry would wake up with a start in the cupboard under the stairs, which for want of a better word, was his room, carrying a notion that the animals were really people that he knew.

As it was, Harry was jolted into a painfully awake state several hours before he would be woken by his aunt. Knowing that there was no chance of slumber claiming him again, he resignedly stood up and flopped back down on to the small camp bed on which he slept. A small table occupied a corner of the cupboard upon which was set a small clock which he had salvaged and repaired a month ago. Sparing it a glance, he realised that were still two hours before his aunt would come by. Still, as Harry remembered, that it was his cousin's birthday, he realised there was something to look forward to that day. Due to the circumstances, his aunt and uncle were unable to leave him with any of their acquaintances for the day. He had been warned four days prior that a visit to the zoo was in the offing. Ten years with the Dursleys had taught him that any instance where he seemed to be enjoying himself was quickly snatched away, by word or by punishment. And knowing the Dursleys' proclivity to change their minds whenever he was concerned, particularly if he showed enthusiasm, he had protested as strongly as he was allowed. That was a skill developed on ten years of experience- ten years in which he had learnt how to test his limits, when to concede and how to concede. It had lent a certain measure of cunningness to his demeanour.

Yet that wasn't all that was Harry Potter. Incessant bullying by the gang of the delinquents thronging his cousin, abetted in no small measure by said cousins doting parents, had rendered him virtually friendless. The few that he managed to befriend were treated to loyalty of the highest order albeit of the child-like nature. The number of times he had stood up to the school bullies for them even at the cost of abusive punishment at home, spoke of his willingness to stand for what he **_believed_** was right, irrespective of the consequences.

Another facet of this intriguing young boy was that he was equally adept at his academic performances, but not blindly so. He exercised a discretion regarding the subjects that he actually studied and cared about; he had managed to convince himself somehow, that the reason that something was history, _was_ because it belonged to the past, and didn't deserve any mention in the present. On the other hand he had proven himself adept with numbers.

At that moment however, none of this really mattered. He had, through his relatively vehement protestations delivered in a rather pleading manner, successfully managed to convince his guardians to let him accompany them to the zoo. He was sure that he would really enjoy the company of the animals, as unlike the **_normal_** people around him, he could **_speak_** to animals as they could with him.

The day started with the patented Dudley tantrum for gifts. It elicited a barely contained role of the eyes from Harry. That was followed by the addition of Piers Polkiss to the travelling party. After a round of extreme pettiness from the Dursleys over the trivial matter of ice-cream, they proceeded at long last to more comfortable environs for Harry.

As the group came around to the section housing the wild cats, Harry felt a faint tingling somewhere in his mind. It was mildly disconcerting, yet somehow familiar. Edging away from the others, he moved to the enclosures that housed the lions. Harry always liked lions, though he could never explain why. Staring intently into the enclosure, he saw a large darkish lion sitting alone to the side, tossing his mane regally. Hitherto, Harry had always communicated with the most mundane of animals. Now he was truly excited by the prospect of talking to a real lion. Checking over his shoulder surreptitiously to see if anyone else was around (for his chats with animals were a secret), he called out to the lion in his mind, accompanied by a low growl. The lion turned around to look at him- then blinked. Walking slowly towards the bars of the enclosure, he considered the boy calling out to him, with a look that clearly showed his astonishment.

"Erm.. Hello Lion."

The softly spoken words and the growl made the lion chuckle with mirth. To Harry, it sounded as close to a rasping cough as was possible for a lion. Harry frowned, then cocked his head slightly to the right, and narrowed his eyes.

"You're not a lion. You are a man aren't you? You're tall, dark, and you wear a ring in your left ear, don't you?"

If the first sentence hadn't startled Kingsley Shacklebolt, the next two completely stunned him. He looked at the boy who had so easily blown his cover. A stream of questions plagued his mind as he started to back away. How **_did_** he know that the lion was a human? How **_did_** he know the features of the human? Most importantly, **_who_** was this boy?

The boy in question was not done yet, however. "Whoever you are, it's dangerous enough that you are around with lions without any protection. If you run away now, the zoo-keepers will notice, won't they? It's not as if you're very large or inconspicuous or anything." Harry finished sarcastically.

Deciding that it was important to get the boy who was bugging him like an infernal pest to quiet down, lest it do his mission any harm, Kingsley moved towards the boy and let out a low roar.

"Alright sir. I will _pipe it down_ as you asked me too. I didn't know you were some spy on a mission. Your _mission_ as you say won't be jeopardised."

If Kingsley had any doubts that the person who stood in front of him was in some way extraordinary, they were all allayed now. He was **_sure_**. Letting out a low growl which meant to ask the boy to wait up, Kingsley went aside to a boulder, transformed back to human form and apparated to Harry's side. He had his wand ready to modify the boy's memory, and quickly throwing up his occlumency shields, he led the boy to a secluded area. He first needed information about the kid who had kept his head covered by the irritating hood that went along with muggle jackets.

As if on cue, the boy slid the hood of his head, making the battle-hardened Auror catch his breath. "You... him... Jimmy ...NO! It can't be!"

For all that Harry could understand of whatever the Auror was thinking, this outburst left him very confused. Summoning up a little courage, he asked, "What can't be?"

"Your name sonny. Harry Potter, aren't you?"

"Yes sir. If I may ask, how do you know me sir? Am I in trouble?"

Kingsley spared the earnest look in the boy's eyes a glance. _Lily's_ eyes. Looking away resolutely, he said kindly, "Of course not. Your father was a friend of mine, Harry. So was your mum. Your father and I worked together, and we were at the same school too. I was a couple of years ahead."

Anyone talking to him kindly was a novelty. Someone volunteering information about his parents was a larger surprise. Putting aside his inhibitions, he ventured, "Sir, I am sorry if I am springing this up on you, but could you tell me exactly what happened to my parents? My aunt would always say that they died in a car crash, but I could always tell that she was lying."

"CAR CRASH!" roared the Auror, eerily and terrifyingly reminiscent of his animagus form, jumping up so angrily that Harry scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily and James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal!" His outburst had garnered a lot many curious stares and glares from those around him. Quickly getting a grip on the situation, he beckoned harry to follow him. A while later, as they stood in the abandoned enclosures a little away from where they were before, Kingsley spilled out the true story to Harry, making sure not to mention magic (he was unsure how the boy would react), who was absorbing it with increasing chagrin, indignation and sorrow.

"So let me get this straight, a mad maniac murdered them, and I haven't even been able to grieve or honour their memory properly. Instead I spent nine Halloweens being their servant and watching Dudley gloating and pigging it out. I HATE THEM ALL!"

"Calm down!" whispered Kingsley hoarsely. "You'll be out of that house soon. Now what was it about servitude?"

Harry then opened up about his ten year ordeal at the Dursleys'. Kingsley fought to keep his face studiously free of both anger and incredulity. _If_ what the boy said was true, it was enough to imprison the muggles in both worlds several times over. He had his doubts; indeed as an Auror, he would have been foolhardy to really take anyone for their word without evidence. Deciding to take a bit of an active interest was a big decision by itself, notwithstanding the fact that actually doing so while on the case of the mysterious occurrences in the Zoo (which were severely detrimental to the Statute of Secrecy) was dereliction and a punishable crime. Moody, who with the disillusionment charm was staking out in other areas of the establishment would surely have his hide- lion or human would hardly make a difference. A very ingenious solution would be to use the very object of his dilemma. If Harry could recognise him, surely he could recognise other animagi. He was sure of the boy using his uncontrolled Legillimency on him, so he decided to be forthright about it. "Look, Harry, I do want to help you. But you do understand that I have trouble imagining the savagery you describe at the hands of your own Aunt, don't you? How about we make a deal? You help me find any other human hiding as an animal, and I will observe your relatives and help you when they try to hurt you?" The boy simply nodded in acquiescence, before asking the elder man a question which stumped him. "I will help you sir. But why didn't you ask the animals first?"

"What do you mean?" Kingsley's confusion was written plainly on his face. "How do you ask animals?"

"Don't you talk to animals? When you went behind the rock, another lion was coming to you. I requested him to go away and not to hurt you." Then with a slight giggle, he added, "He said you smelt funny."

The revelation had Kingsley in a proper daze. "I don't know how to talk to animals. Will you help me please? I am trying to arrest a man who has been hurting the animals for their body parts." The angry scowl which graced the child's visage at this severely shocked the Auror. "I believe he may look like an animal or looking like a human but not himself. Can you see humans not looking like themselves?" he continued quickly.

"Well there is a scary looking man behind you. He has a wooden leg. He has an eye sir. It is moving!" His voice had risen in panic by now. But just as abruptly, he calmed down. "But he is not bad. Both of you have similar colours, a nice orange. So I know he is good. But I think he is angry with you. He is coming here."

Thus cautioned by the warning, Kingsley injected a bit of bravado into the proceedings. "Look who we have here, wandering by himself, Mad-Eye!" he intoned in an excited whisper.

"You may have found Merlin himself for all I care, sonny! What are you doing gallivanting around the Zoo while you have a case to handle?" Then turning both his eyes to the diminutive figure in front of him, he gasped and asked, "You boy, what are you doing alone?"

Knowing trouble as it came, Harry quickly changed tack and turned to Kingsley. "Can we go now?"

Mad-Eye cast a quizzical look at his protégé, who grimaced in the manner of a person severely out of his depth. Not wanting to waste any more time, and before his mentor could protest, Kingsley nodded at Harry, who simply walked over to the nearest cage, and started conversing with the lions as the two Aurors looked on. "Is his brain addled by that curse, King? What exactly is going on?" Mad-Eye growled.

Looking at his mentor squarely in the eye, Kingsley said, "Will you just watch the boy perform some real magic?"

By this time, the subject of their conversation was returning with some questions. "Was an African Elephant killed two days ago? Followed by a very neat severing of both horns of a Rhino? The lion whom I spoke with earlier thought that it was you doing it, because you smelt different."

The two Aurors nodded faintly. Harry hurried back to the lion, who it seemed, was now waiting in anticipation for his young translator. A few growls, a deafening roar, and then what seemed to be a small burst of laughter emanated from the conversation. A zoo-keeper hurrying over to chastise the young troublemaker for baiting the animals was meanwhile confounded and dispatched by the two elder wizards.

"Mr. Shacklebolt sir, he advised me to check with the skin animals today. The lion says that since the targeted animals are in this section, the offender in his realm as he says, will be somewhere around. He also congratulates you for following that thread of thought, if that was what you did. He also gives you express permission to carry out the investigations and punish the vile demon as per the laws of the jungle on his behalf."

Recognising the need to act quickly, the Moody and Kingsley kept aside their apprehensions and toured the African section with their charge. Harry stopped at various cages, looked around and generally acted like an excitable eleven year old would, till he came to the zebra enclosure. Just before he approached it, he stopped abruptly. With barely contained desperation, he turned to his two companions. "I think he is here. I can sense a bad colour now. Don't look like yourself. Please."

Sure enough, as soon as they reached the enclosure, he grasped the two disillusioned Aurors' hands. Pointing to a Zebra that was standing a bit away from the herd, he said, "That man is standing there sir. He is going to hit that zebra with a wooden stick. He has his back towards us."

"Where is he laddie?" Moody asked as kindly as he could.

"Standing by that Zebra. He is raising his stick now. He is near its tail, on its side. Between us and the Zebra that is."

In one fluid motion, both Aurors had their wands out of their holsters and shot three stunning spells, two of them catching their quarry in the back. Harry's shocked scream died in his throat dumbfounded, as he watched the stunned man being bound and arrested.

A while later, the triumvirate sat at a booth in the cafeteria of the Zoo, each studiously avoiding any talk. Moody decided to take the matter in his control. Surreptitiously casting privacy charms and wards, he turned to his two companions. "Well now, enough with this silence. It is quite obvious that we all have questions that need answering, and the sooner we get around to that, we will all be better off. You sonny, have seen too much, but nothing that you need to forget because of who and what you are. So I won't erase your memory. Now fire away."

Harry sat without response for a few moments, looking at the other two intently. Then very shyly, he proceeded to verify whether he was really allowed to ask questions. They nodded in affirmation.

"Well then. I have several questions. First off, what did you do to him? Is he dead?"

With a slight chuckle, Moody, in his inimitable growl disabused him of the notion. "No laddie. We stunned him. Knocked him out cold. He won't be making a noise out of his sorry throat, at least not until we wake him up."

Apparently mollified by this, Harry mussed his hair a bit, and then with a lopsided grin said, "Well the effect was, if you ask me, rather _stunning._ "

If the two Aurors had any doubts as to the identity of their young companion, all were now surely quelled. This boy simply _was_ James Potter's son. They sniggered a little, before progressing into full blown gales of laughter. Deciding that it was the polite thing to do, Harry cautiously joined them. As the group settled down a bit, Harry innocently asked why they had all laughed, setting the two older wizards off again. It was a little while before they regained some composure for Kingsley to answer this question. "You see, Harry, this was your father's exact reaction when we actually practised stunning for field wor-"

"My Dad could do that too? What was it exactly that you did?" Harry cut him off.

"Now, now, Harry. Isn't interrupting anyone rude?" chided Kingsley.

"Sorry, Mr. Shacklebolt", was the contrite answer.

"Don't you 'Mr. Shacklebolt' me young man! Had old Jimmy been around, every son of his would have called me Uncle King if he knew what was good for his father. To answer your questions, yes, James could do that too. He was a wizard, as are we all. Just like you."

"I am a wizard? Uncle Vernon says I am a freak! And how could I be a Wizard?" he continued glumly, "I can't do that magic thingy, I am sure of it. And Uncle Vernon says magic doesn't exist." As if to illustrate this he crossed his arms and wore an expression of sheer defiance that made Moody and Shacklebolt relapse into laughter. This severely incensed the boy and he had to be explained that his actions were now eerily reminiscent of his mother when she wanted to staunchly oppose something. At the same time, they also pointed out to him that he had contradicted himself twice in the same outburst.

Mad-Eye on the other hand decided to take a more proactive approach to solving this query. Handing his own wand to Harry, he instructed, "Picture lots of canaries. You know what a canary is, don't you boy? Just think of shooting as many canaries as you can from this wand. Think of the word _Avis_ simultaneously. Think of nothing else but of the canaries coming out of the wand when you think of the word."

Kingsley's scepticism was etched on his face. Mad-Eye was asking the boy, basically, to perform a non-verbal spell. Irrespective of whether or not the boy was powerful, this was nothing that any eleven year old could really accomplish. He was in for a surprise however, when a multitude of small multi-coloured birds started twittering around their heads. The glee on the boy's face was easily discernible. At that moment however Mad-Eye observed, "Never seen canaries of these many colours."

Harry grinned sheepishly. "I was a bit excited. It just got away from me a bit. So all those times when they called me a freak, I was doing magic? So the sudden shrinking of clothes; overnight growth of hair; jumping up to the school roof away from Dudley; turning the teacher's hair blue when she shouted at me when Dudley tripped her; all that was magic?"

" _You jumped up to the school roof?_ " There was tremendous incredulity written large on their faces.

"Well Dudley and his gang were going to beat me up! I just had to get away, didn't I? I just wanted to get away, then there was some odd sort of pressing on all sides, and then I was on the roof." he countered defensively.

The two Aurors nodded faintly. "Our turn at questions now. How did you know? How did you know that I was the Lion? How could you see my human form when I was the Lion? How did you see that criminal even though we couldn't?"

Harry looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. "I don't know. When I look at people or animals, if I look hard enough, I can see their colours. I can always tell whether somebody is good or not by that. You both are good, a bit short-tempered, Mr. Moody more so. So you have bright colours like a flame. You are both nearer to orange. I know you are now going to ask me how I could hear what you were thinking _exactly_. Your colour selves speak, whether or not you do so yourself. It is the same with animals. But they are simpler. It's just that I get tired if I look too hard."

"Any more bombshells?" asked Moody, and he was notoriously difficult to surprise.

"No" came the simple response.

"Well, then, I am going to try something. I will try to prevent you from knowing what I want to say. I will either lie or try to close my mind. You will tell me exactly what I am _really_ thinking. May I?"

'Uncle King' started the experiments while Moody conjured some pen and paper **(** knowing that the boy was still more comfortable with the muggle contraptions; though even he would grudgingly admit that they were better for normal use- parchment and quill ink was better when the written matter had to be spelled **)** which he passed on to Harry with instructions to write down what the 'colour' Shacklebolt spoke. They tried lying; occlumency shields (Harry making a mental note to find out what Occlumency was); counter-Legillimency to obstruct him. The results were astonishing. It was evident. One could not simply hide anything from Harry Potter.

After a brief discussion about the extent of his abilities, they sat at the table in a very contemplative mood, when suddenly Harry yelped in panic. "The Dursleys! I have been gone for over an hour and half! They'll skin me alive now!"

"Nonsense Potter. We'll both be there when you decide to grace them with your company again. And if it is the time you're worried about," Moody said, handling a small golden hour-glass on a chain, a rather disconcerting grin gracing his scarred and scary visage, "I am sure we can put it to rights." And suddenly, they were back, this time disillusioned, to when Harry first encountered Kingsley.

"How? I am here, but I am there! This happened an hour and half ago. How are we here?"

Putting up a hand to silence Harry's barrage of questions, Kingsley replied, "This," he said pointing to the device, "is a Time Turner. We have gone back in time."

Harry looked gobsmacked for a split second, before gathering himself. "Alright. Now I have decided, I will never be surprised by anything." This caused the two older wizards to chuckle in a rather hushed manner. Then they stopped abruptly, and winced. Whatever they were thinking must have been conveyed through their colour selves to Harry for he chose, wisely, to not pursue any line of questioning; which indeed was a wise thing to do, as barely a minute after Kingsley had whisked Harry away, the Dursley contingent trudged along. Harry was made visible again as he quietly joined the group, the two Aurors following uncharacteristically, both out of curiosity and to observe and verify Harry's claims.

The Dursleys and Harry made their way around, with Dudley proving to be a disturbingly intriguing exhibit for the two Aurors. They soon moved on to the reptile house, where Harry was truly fascinated by the wide variety of creatures. He had before, encountered the common grass snakes, the odd chameleons and the like, but the sheer number of exotic creatures on display here was, for him, a surreal experience. Creatures from the most distant places were housed in this section, and the quiet that pervaded the area was a bit stifling in Harry's opinion. That was until the two Dursley gentlemen decided that bothering a boa constrictor bred in captivity was a very wise course of action. Once they had passed by, enraged at the unresponsive behaviour of the rather large snake, Harry sidled across to the glass wall. Kingsley, who was cringing at the obnoxious behaviour of the two male Dursleys, was now in for a horrifying shock. He _knew_ that Harry could speak to all animals, and that _would_ include snakes. But the display of Parseltongue from the young boy was still very much disturbing to him. He shivered as the boy hissed and the snake gesticulated in response. How was it that snakes could hear at all? That too, through the glass? Then the answer presented itself to him: _magic._ But just a few moments later, the altercation between Harry and his cousin ended up with an alarming bit of accidental magic. Harry freed the snake, somehow, and when asked, very innocently said that the snake hadn't been to Brazil having been bred in captivity, so it thanked him when he set it free.

Taking his senior aside an hour later, Kingsley laid out his plans. "Alastor, I would like a leave of absence for a week. I need you to check the wards around _the_ house, so that I can get in. And, before you protest, to hell with Dumbledore's orders. We have both seen what those creatures are like. I **am** going to observe. I'll file a report for you if you want, but I am doing this. The least we can do for Jimmy", he said fiercely.

Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody looked at his protégé intently for a minute. "No." Holding up a hand to stem Kingsley's angry response, he said, "No leave. Everything else, yes. Consider this an official mission." The pair shook hands, and unbeknownst to anyone else, Harry Potter had a magical protector for a week.

* * *

Kingsley, a week later, sat shocked in his office, waiting for Mad-Eye Moody to turn in his 'report' regarding the house-life of one Harry James Potter. When Mad-Eye stumped in, Kingsley turned to look at him with a blank stare that froze the elder. It reminded him of a person subjected to the Dementor's Kiss. Just to err on the side of caution, he barked, "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" and sent a mild water jet at Kingsley. A look of mild indignation, mixed heavily with revulsion, grief and hatred spread across the usually unflappable younger man's features. That shocked Moody worse than anything else. "What is it lad?"

"I am not allowing anyone to keep him there. Not Albus bloody-too-many-names Dumbledore, not some damned Minister or anyone else. I can't bring myself to speak it. Go on read. I swear on my life and magic that it is true."

Moody merely frowned, then perused the report, his face showing as much of every expression that would be as detrimental to conjuring a Patronus as would be possible. He set it down on the table once he was done, sighed gustily, and then in the calmest of voices (that essentially meant that the perpetrator of whatever crime that he was investigating had the sentence of the Death Veil hanging on his head) intoned, "This warrants a rescue operation. I wonder how he could remain normal by human standards all these years."

"He got into muggle meditation. He has some Occlumency shields. It is all water. Thoughts turn to water and start grabbing you, squeezing, and then drown you out. Everything is totally random yet powerful enough because it is random and surging like a powerful set of waterfalls. Most importantly, he caught me and asked me why I tried to break in. Of course, no one can lie to him, so I told him that I was curious. Another important thing is that he is quietly belligerent and rebellious. They force him into chores, but overall, he can't be forced into submission. He has recognised living there as his lot in life perhaps. Yet somehow, he doesn't recognise them as an authority over him, I believe that sort of respect and trust have to be earned for him to _accept_ orders, for him to place himself at someone's disposal. When he does get to Hogwarts eventually, he will be pretty much a self-sufficient person. Not aloof, but rather independent. He hasn't made any attempts to control his magic as of yet, when he does do that he will be a more than decently powerful wizard."

"Glowing report from you Kingsley," Mad-Eye said, "it's more like a character certificate. This however, goes to Amelia and Albus. Many of us had told him not to place the boy with the muggles. Did he listen? No. He is now very much an accomplice to such blatant abuse. Add to that the fact that the kid is a hero in our world, and is the heir to an Ancient and Noble House. It is time he comes into our world and doesn't become too overwhelmed by it. We have to get the wise old fool to recognise this soon."

Amelia Bones, as department head for Magical Law Enforcement, was going through a filed report regarding the mistreatment of a magical child, which was a severe headache given the fact that the said magical child was the sole heir to nobility. To add to the complications were the political ramifications of the child being the Boy-Who-Lived. Kneading her forehead and pinching the bridge of her nose, she had the dilemma: to take the moral way and press charges against the parties involved- allowing an old pureblood family with possibly pro-Voldemort leanings control of the Potter seat- or to neglect the report and press for action out of decorum by circumventing the law.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was in his office at Hogwarts ridden with anger, guilt and something bordering on incomprehension regarding the inability of human nature to look past differences. Most reprehensibly, these had manifested in cruelty towards a child. He knew he himself had foisted the guardianship of a nephew on his aunt and uncle and had hoped rather than ensured that he would be well cared for. He was waiting for the child in question, to apologise for his actions. He had truly believed that his decisions were right and though not a vain man, in this case, being proven wrong was very painful.

A while later, the alarm that signalled out whenever somebody wished for access to his office trilled. Checking for the visitors, he saw Kingsley Shacklebolt with the boy, and even the venerable old mage's breath was caught in his throat as he saw who he could swear was James Potter in miniature. Bidding them to enter, he allowed himself a moment of quiet observation. That the boy was dressed in old castaways was evident. Yet there was no anger or negativity abounding him, just a vague sense of detachment that bordered on sadness.

"Do come in," he said hoping that he sounded jovial. "This must be young Harry?" he asked smiling kindly.

Realising that his young charge was a bit overwhelmed by the environment, Kingsley took up the thread of the conversation. "Indeed, Headmaster. Quite an interesting young man he is. He recently helped us with an investigation, successfully," he added proudly, patting Harry lightly across the shoulders. Dumbledore surveyed him with a piercing gaze, and Harry felt as though he was being judged. Not to be cowed down however, he returned it and held the gaze intently. About a minute later, the old wizard gasped and nodded to Kingsley, while Harry tugged at the Auror's robes.

"Uncle King, would you please allow me talk to the Professor privately? I am not sure that he wants anyone else to hear it. He can't hide it from me though. He is hurt and wounded at the colour. I think I can heal him. Please?"

The two older wizards stared at Harry for a second, before Shacklebolt shrugged and left the room. The youngster turned to the old man, seeming to deliberate with himself a little. Then summoning all his courage, he said, "It was not you, sir."

"Sorry?"

"The fight sir, when your sister..." he left it trailing as Dumbledore gasped. "It was not you or your brother. It was the other man. He did it. Your only fault was your belief in his lies and being a bit greedy then."

Dumbledore got up jerkily, with his eyes tearing up. He paced the room in agitation, keeping his stare trained on the boy who had both him both relief as well as caused the guilt to resurge. "How did you know?" he asked harshly.

"Please don't get angry, sir. I know that this is difficult for you; your colour is changing a bit to red. People can't hide things from me, that way. They don't like it when I tell them, but sometimes knowing what I tell them is the most important thing. It will heal you."

Dumbledore stopped his agitated pacing and came to kneel in front of Harry to put them eye to eye. "What is this 'colour' you talk about? I know roughly because Alastor told me the basics. But how did you come about with this ability?"

"Well, I did not always have it, but about four years ago, I saw a muggle television program propounding the advantages of meditation. The Dursleys lock me up in a broom cupboard anyway, so I started practising it, and over time got so good at it that I can look at people's colours. And when the..." he stopped abruptly and looked into his lap.

"And when the? Please continue child, you have nothing to fear." This was said with such a peculiar timbre to his voice and in a very reassuring manner, that Harry felt compelled to comply.

"And when the Dursleys beat me up, I can go inside myself."

"What do you mean?" asked Dumbledore sharply.

"Well when I got better marks than Dudley in school, Uncle Vernon got very angry and he beat me with a belt and threw me into the cupboard. So I went into myself and the pain went down." It was said in such a bland manner, that the old wizard found his usually imperturbable visage contorting in fury. The fact that this was only a confirmation of the report that Kingsley had shown was now mere trivia.

Harry sensed it, for he said, "Don't get too angry sir. It is not good. I can see it."

Forcing calm, he exhaled deeply. "Harry, my child. You will be coming to this school from the first of September. You will live here for about nine months a year. I won't say that you can never go back there; you must. But you won't need to stay for the whole three months. We will find someplace else for you to live, in the interim. I will come with you to your Uncle's house. Moreover, you must perform to your best level here. We give special prizes for that, and given that you are Lily and James's son, that will be an important part of who you are. They were Head Boy and Girl here."

"My parents were Head Students!" he exclaimed with growing excitement.

"Oh yes, but your father was a bit of a prankster too. A very ingenious prankster at that", said a chuckling Dumbledore.

Headmaster and pupil considered each other for a moment. "So will I have to say goodbye to Derek, Mr Gibson and Brianna too?" he asked with just the slightest touch of sadness.

"Pray tell me, who are they?"

"Derek is Uncle Vernon's mechanic. I love machines, so he taught me everything about cars. Mr Gibson makes musical instruments. And Brianna gives me books to read. Dudley doesn't like any of this, so I get to do it." The brightness in his voice while describing his activities gave Dumbledore a little hope.

"You can always do that here too. You can add some magic to it, can't you?" he asked slyly. "Go call Kingsley please."

When Kingsley returned, they started discussing the rest of the summer for Harry. Kingsley gave a blow by blow account of how he had helped arrest the delinquent in the zoo and the old Professor was suitably impressed. "Well the thing is, Dumbledore, we at the Aurors would like Harry to visit us every now and then to help us with the muggle stuff or to look at suspects. May we, please? Mad-Eye and Hestia will always be around. We will only ask him to _look_ from afar. Please? We will also let him read appropriate books from the library."

The prospect of spending time with one of his favourite people yet brightened up Harry so much that there was no way that the request would not be acquiesced. "That is James's face, right there", laughed Dumbledore. "It makes me think that Minerva will soon have her hands full, somehow. It's a pity she isn't here. She was James's godmother you know" he remarked.

"Now, there is another important thing I wanted to tell you. Your grandfather was Lord Potter when he passed away. At the time, James could not claim the inheritance because of the war then. Now you are the last male Potter, and so on your eleventh birthday, you will have a choice to come into your inheritance. That will essentially mean that you will become an adult at the age of eleven. Normally you could have appointed a Regent to the seat in the Wizengamot, and such a Regent would have to be a member of your House or another Lord. Till now I had Madame Longbottom take the mantle. The permission to do so will have to be renewed on or by your eleventh birthday. Now, since you do not know the proper customs- and that is very much my fault- the voting process will be difficult for you to follow and perform. Moreover, the reason why you go to your Aunt's place is the blood protection, and that will end when you become an adult legally. However, in light of what you have told me, I will ensure that there is an alternative. I can't keep you there in good conscience. I would advise you to continue Madame Longbottom as your Regent."

"Sir, I know nothing of this as you rightly say. Madame Longbottom must have done her job admirably. May I meet her please? I would like to learn the customs too. Could you please arrange for me to have the requisite knowledge?" was the immediate response.

"Well worded", said Dumbledore approvingly. "I will ask Augusta about it soon. You are to meet her anyway for the Regency, so I'll arrange it at the earliest. In the meanwhile, you will be meeting a healer. That would be a doctor in the Muggle world. Now this Healer Andromeda Tonks knew your parents, so it should be easy, theoretically, for the two of you to communicate openly. I am purposely expediting your care to people who knew your family before. I hope that it is alright with you."

"Yes sir."

The two looked at each other intently and rather curiously for some time. "May I say something, sir?"

Dumbledore had heard a pearl of wisdom from the young boy already, and that meant any more of his musings were not to be taken lightly. "Indeed my boy. You needn't fear to speak, do so freely."

"You are thinking of atonement for something. Don't. You do have a bad tendency of keeping too many secrets, when revealing them to those of tried and tested faith could solve problems far too easily. You fear trusting people. When people need help or information, they ask for it. Your discretion should be limited to whether or not they are trustworthy."

Whatever the old man had expected, it was not this. Too many secrets. **_Too many secrets._** Deciding that he needed to contemplate on the words, he simply inclined his head in acceptance, just as Kingsley murmured, "From the mouth of babes..."

For once in his life, Albus Dumbledore was rendered speechless.


	3. Chapter 3

**Time with family**

Luck was not something that generally favoured Harry Potter. His parents had been murdered by a proper maniac for some reason that no one seemed to know. That had resulted in him ending up with his Aunt who hated her sister and by default also hated him. The nearly ten intervening years that he had spent seemed to have exhausted nearly all the reserves of bad luck that were associated with him. It was still taking him time to turn his head around the sudden changes that had occurred.

This morning it wasn't Aunt Petunia who screeched at his door but _Aunt_ Andromeda (who preferred Aunt Andy) who called him down to breakfast. About the only disagreeable thing around was the regimen of potions that she had put him on. That apart, she even let him use her wand for simple household spells which she had taught him. While the chore was pretty much the same as at Privet Drive, the fact that it was handed out occasionally and was performed by magic meant that he could not really classify it as a chore.

 _Uncle_ Ted was about as much of a polar opposite of Uncle Vernon as could be. Both could turn an alarming shade of purple as blood pumped their faces, but jovial Uncle Ted's face turned purple when he would almost choke himself with laughter, earning reprimands from his wife. At the same time, he was an extremely strict and thorough solicitor who had caused the Death Eater faction no end of trouble during the First War _and_ lived to tell the tale. He was something of an enigma to the young boy who realised that he was nothing like Uncle Vernon. _That_ meant a _great_ person in Harry's books.

Then there was Dora. He had grown comfortable enough to call her that. When her mother introduced her as Nymphadora Tonks, who would be a final year Hufflepuff, she had scowled and pouted at the name and had even thrown a tantrum (which wasn't anything like Dudley's); but she was every bit the elder sister, and she took on the role very enthusiastically. Teasing him and being teased in return, bullying him a bit just to show who the elder one was; showing new spells and tricks to his curious eyes and amusing him with her metamorphmagus abilities, meant that she had quickly gained favour with him as his favourite person.

It was true. It was good to be home.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was lounging in the discussion room of the Auror Department with Rufus Scrimgeour, Mad-Eye Moody and Hestia Jones watching as Harry made his way through a file that had been closed a few years previously. To them it seemed nothing more than an exercise in keeping the excitable young man quiet. He had managed to devour most of the books they had allowed him to read from the library, had very politely and rather cunningly pestered them to teach him a few spells. What really turned the game for him though were the most insightful observations of his regarding some of the past cases. Just a little detail here, a different tactic there, a trick or decoy suggested in some situations. It really had the senior Aurors shaking their heads. The next seven years were going to be too long before this rather sneaky boy joined them.

Their minutes of calm suddenly turned to anger as they could hear the minister discussing with his 'friend' about some new law. It had been one of the greatest failures of the Auror department that they hadn't been able to worm their way around the money that oiled the Minister's hands. Far too many known Death Eaters had escaped the Veil that way. What they weren't prepared was for a frustrated Harry moving for the door to chastise the ones who had broken his reverie. In a trice he was out of the door and facing Lucius Malfoy and Cornelius Fudge. Malfoy looked at the boy with a look of sheer calculation mingled with loathing and reverence, though how he managed it was a mystery. Fudge looked like a fish out of water before blustering out his welcome.

"What a surprise! The boy-who-lived! An honour to meet you..." he started out before quailing under the cold stare that the boy gave him, a stare that exuded so much distrust and malice that the Minister recoiled in surprise. Before he could respond however, the cold gaze had turned to Lucius. Green met grey and in that moment, the power contained in the boy seemed to be boundless. Calm indifference turned to unrestrained fury as the Malfoy head of house started backing away in fear.

"HOW COULD YOU, YOU DIRTY, EVIL MAN! THEY ARE NOW GOING TO KNOW EVERY SINGLE MURDER YOU DID IN THE NAME OF THAT DIRTY OLD SNAKE-FACE! GIDEON AND FABIAN PREWETT, MARLENE MCKINNON, FOR HELL, YOUR OWN SISTER..."

As the litany of those whose blood coloured his hands was being read by an irate Harry Potter, Lucius' hand had inched towards his wand which was concealed in the preposterous walking stick that he carried around under the garb of tradition. It was noticed by the Aurors who had their own wand out of their holsters.

"...YOU KILLED HER TOO. THEN YOU TORTURED THAT YOUNG BOY! HE LOOKED LIKE YO- HE WAS YOUR OWN SON..."

Lucius Malfoy may have been a good actor, but he had his limits, and that was when his nerves had jangled. He needed to shut the boy up for good. "AVADA..."

He never got to finish the incantation as Harry's accidental magic, combined with four stunners threw the man into the wall behind him. The resounding crack that accompanied the motion was proof that more than one bone had become slightly amorphous. The minister sat onto a nearby chair gaping slightly, his mouth working wordlessly.

"This lad comes here, presents himself as bait and gets a death eater down within three days", smirked Hestia. "Say Mad-Eye, could his father or grandfather have done that at eleven?"

"I don't know for sure, but Charlus was more interested in some muggle sport then, I don't remember which. Good work their lad, though it was the most foolish thing to do. Tell me what mistakes did you commit?"

Harry, who had calmed down a bit by now, responded glumly, ticking off his fingers. "Did not show caution, did not wait for back-up, no information on quarry, did not make sure whether or not said quarry was a suspect, went to a gun-battle with a water-balloon, and then lost control of my magic which could have hurt innocent bystanders. Yes, I think that covers it. Sorry Uncle... I mean Auror Moody, but there was this small boy, I think his name was Draco. Lucius shot some red curse at him- was that the Cruciatus?- and he was screaming in unimaginable pain. Worse than Uncle Vernon."

"You Potters are cheeky, but fair. Yes that did cover the list. You on the other hand, my dear lad have given us enough suspicion. He can be charged with Attempted Killing Curse on a minor. Now you see that ponce there, the minister? In spite of what he says, we can interrogate him." Mad-eye eyed his newest Potter acquaintance fondly.

Looking at the prone form of his attacker, and then striding away back to the case files, Harry stopped and said, "You can also apprehend the minister, not arrest, on suspicion of complicity with a murderer. Just check the transactions of vault 467 with vaults 239, 119 and 555. The Goblin's name is Kanrjak. Also just tell the goblins that certain actions of debt-ridden thievery have occurred and said individuals are mentioned. I'll just go and call Madame Bones, so she can also place Dolores Umbridge under suspicion of the murder of one Marcus Trembell for obstructing Fudge's path. Do try the comprehensive test on her wand. Fudge swept her infraction under the carpet, but I can see that you'll find more than one of those bloody Unforgivables. You could always do it for all Ministry employees _and_ visitors for the sake of propriety. The Aurors' use can be matched with the case files. Do it discretely too, we don't need to give anyone warning, do we?"

Fudge, at that moment hated the Boy-Who-Lived worse than anyone else in the whole wide world, mundane or magical.

* * *

Narcissa Malfoy sat in brooding silence in the Auror office. For fifteen years, she had borne the brunt of choosing Lucius Malfoy. She had been enamoured by Lord Abraxas Malfoy's son and scion when they had met at the various functions and, for want of a better word, parties that were hosted only for purebloods to attend by invitation. Those had been the heydays of the power of the Dark Lord and within the closed circle of their social connections the cause was a worthy one, one that they could revere. There hadn't been much doubt about the cause itself for her, only the means. Soon after their marriage, she could see what the Death Eaters were really prepared to do. Her own sister had taken the Mark and in the most polite terms, she was crazy. It had always filled her with disgust, loathing and a nauseous feeling she couldn't explain whenever she saw the so-called Dark Lord or heard the boastings of the Death Eaters regarding their latest conquests. Lucius had been a good, loving husband, but his teachings to their young son about blood purity had brought on some disastrous consequences. Her defiant son had befriended a muggle and had paid for his 'crime', though the punishment was something neither the father nor the son spoke about. She had sincerely hoped to keep Draco away from his father's influences. The answer had come up in the form of one Harry Potter.

This particular answer was currently attempting to converse with Draco Malfoy and the pair was being surreptitiously being observed by Narcissa Malfoy. Having never attended any of the meetings of the Death Eaters, but having watched her husband discuss other matters with the Death Eaters after the closed door meetings, she had become rather adept at lip-reading. It was a survival instinct; she did not want her son tarred by that brush, no matter her beliefs. It was necessary to know whatever information she could get to protect him, so the skills came with the necessity. The current conversation was of great interest to her. While Draco had certainly tried to fit into his father's expectations, his chat companion had no qualms in holding an easy conversation whatsoever, never mind the fact that the tone was extremely formal.

"Mr. Malfoy, I am really sorry about your father."

"So you say, Mr. Potter. Your claim that my father was a supporter of the Dark Lord was out of a misplaced sense of retribution. That is my firm belief."

"Indeed you are mistaken here. Am I right in believing that your father was an accomplished Occlumens?" Draco answered with a curt nod.

"Then I must divulge a little secret of mine that played an important part in managing to incriminate you father. I am, what you would say, an accomplished and natural Occlumens and Legillimens, and Professor Dumbledore could not protect himself against me. Now, he has been teaching me to control it, as my using my, _powers_ , if you will, was a part of my accidental magic. However, this morning, your father incensed me to such an extent, that I could not control my magic."

Draco was suitably awed with this explanation. He himself had been learning Occlumency from his father, and knew that the only experts at harnessing the art were the Dark Lord and his godfather Severus Snape. Those were the ones that his father respected. Yet, however much his father disliked the Hogwarts Headmaster, his expertise at the Mind Arts was held in grudging respect by even the Dark Lord. And yet, right here in front of him, was a person just about his own age, who had gone past that formidable a barrier. If for nothing else, that accomplishment was worth listening to the person in front of him.

"Indeed."

"Yes, but I wouldn't say it as a boast. Now, I must say, that within our own short conversation, my probing of your father and of your own has yielded a perfectly coherent story. Yes, I can see the surprise taking hold of you; my probing can't be felt." The last was said with a slight smirk. "I should indeed go so far as to say that some incidents in your own childhood triggered my anger and my magic." The shiver and flinch that Draco exhibited was imperceptible to every eye that couldn't see. "Allow me to add that your stock in my eyes has significantly risen to open respect. To suppress your own views, to bear a clutch of the Cruciatus at the tender age of seven at the hands of your father, and hiding it under duress from your mother to protect a friend... My respect is, to you, freely given."

Narcissa who had been looking in onto the conversation was now seething in rage. Lucius had done _that?_ She strode over to the pair and joined them.

"Mr. Potter, Harry, if I may?"

"You need not ask, Lady Malfoy. It concerns your family, and indeed such grievous infractions as those committed on your son by his father, must lie heavily on the mother's heart. I implore however, that you understand Draco's side to it. He merely intended to protect his muggle friend, Leanne. It was a punishment for him. And as for hiding the particular abuse, I can safely say that I empathise. Should you not believe me in this matter, you will find the report by both your sister Healer Tonks and Auror Shacklebolt illuminating. Now to the story."

What ensued was a recital of the abuse that Draco endured. By the end, the young Malfoy scion was sobbing and sniffling while his mother was apoplectic with rage.

"Mr. Potter..."

"Please call me Harry, ma'am. That you are, from my point of view, a friend's mother, and also Aunt Andy's sister, really should preclude you from such trivial formalities. Indeed, my manner of formal speech is acquired and does leave me quite uncomfortable."

Narcissa stared at him for a whole minute, leaving the two boys bewildered. Then she threw back her head and laughed. To Draco that was a sound much different, yet much pleasant compared to her countenance in formal settings. He smiled weakly, and that warmed his mother's heart.

"You are a very remarkable person, Harry. Not many would try to befriend a child brought up in the old Pureblood ways with nary but a conversation, especially someone from a patently Gryffindor blood-line like yours."

"Lady Malfoy, my secrets are my own, but I could still divulge that having friends my own age is a luxury of sorts for me. My anger with your husband was more on Draco's part than in the context of his Death Eater activities. I would be very honoured to call him a friend, should he not object. Indeed, we would be friends in the proper sense of the term, and not the allies that the exclusively pureblood functions- that Draco so detests- attempt to cultivate."

"Are you serious? It is indeed a very good thing in my eyes, if he consents."

"I am."

"Draco?"

"Mum he is a half-blood..." the boy whined. Both Harry and Narcissa exhaled shakily. Coming to a sudden decision, he walked up to the Floo and called Ted and Andromeda Tonks. Narcissa gave a slightly apologetic attempt of a smile to her sister, whose face hardened and lips pursed into a tight line. Recognising defeat for the time being, she let Harry (who hadn't missed the exchange) take control of the proceedings.

"Aunt Andy, **_we_** are trying to disabuse Draco of the blood purity teachings of his father. If you don't mind, could you make identical cuts on all our hands please?" The emphasis on 'we' was not missed by anyone.

The two sisters stared at the boy for a second then smiled and nodded in comprehension.

"Now, Draco, I know for sure that your protests are flimsy and you are clutching at this very half-heartedly. Now look. Uncle Ted, whom your father called a mudblood has the same sort of blood that I do, as do you. It has the same basic chemical composition. The differences in non-generic properties are borne from genetics and family traits, which we should be thankful for, else we would all have been the same. I can only ask you to think about it."

"I will, Potter" Draco said with an exaggerated sigh.

"You don't have to act you know, nobody has managed to hide things from me, if I really tried to find out. And besides, to my friends I am Harry. So don't drawl my last name the next time you want to talk, because it doesn't really suit a person like you."

Draco gave him a look that could've been concentrated contemplation or calculation. The two shared a curt nod and strode away.

"Andromeda, I wish to have your time and permission to speak. We have matters that need discussion."

"Dinner is at seven Cissy. Do bring my nephew along."

* * *

Alexander Yaxley was witness to the event when the Dark Lord had handed out certain artefacts to his trusted servants. That Lucius had won more trust than him had always rankled. But now, he would have it.

* * *

Augusta Longbottom was sitting in a balcony of the family manor, watching her grandson and Harry Potter engaged in an animated discussion about something. It was eerily reminiscent of the times that Frank would write home describing his time with a quartet of kids two years his junior. James Potter had been one of them, and the two had gotten along famously at the society functions that both the Longbottoms and Potters attended.

While not the outgoing kind that James was, Harry still was an independent and friendly person, as well as devilishly and deviously mischievous in his own right. Frank had often given the younger boy a dressing down for borderline bullying. There seemed no danger of that here. The boy had been extremely polite from the word go, a bit shy in new environs, but having Neville around had made both boys come out of their shell. It was now a common sight to see them engaged in attempts to pull a fast one on one of the house-elves, or rough housing, or simply exchanging stories and details about the days when Neville would work with his beloved plants and Harry would spend time with the Aurors who had made him an unofficial helper. It had been a pleasant surprise to know that Neville was an arboloquist - he could talk to and understand plants. It had been magic enough to convince her that her grandson was no squib.

The day was special, though in a sad way, for them. Harry had learnt that Neville's mother was his Godmother and had, thereupon, politely asked to meet her. That couldn't hide the eagerness to meet someone else in the magical world that he was connected to. When he learnt about the Longbottom couple's fate, he had let out a most impressive burst of accidental magic that shook the property.

They spent the day at St. Mungo's Spell damage ward, with the old Dowager lost in reminiscences of her son and daughter-in-law. Neither of the Longbottoms saw Harry making minute observations, nor the smile that lit his face.

To say that Harry had two of the most respected Aurors wrapped around his little finger was an understatement. Most would have seen this as an attempt to milk his apparent fame. He saw it as a way to put things right the way he could. The days fell into an easy routine. Sundays were the worst because he had to be at the Dursleys'. It was business as usual there, though they had been subdued by Uncle King telling them that he had the State's protection and thanks for helping with the arrest of a wanted criminal, and they would check him for any unnatural injuries as they could be due to attacks by vengeful criminals. Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays were spent at the Auror office, well hidden (Madam Bones, head of the DMLE and the interim Minister, hadn't been very happy to see him in office and had tried to send him over to the Bones' to play with her niece Susan). Most of the time there was spent poring over the laws and rules or some spell-book. His naturally quiet disposition meant that nobody was really flustered by his presence. The magical item smuggling case which he had aided with the simple suggestion to look for magical traces by setting up wards on muggle transport hubs had yielded satisfactory results. Tuesdays and all evenings barring Sundays were spent at the Hospital with the Longbottom couple (that was a secret; even the Healers were sworn to secrecy). Thursdays were spent learning the customs and ethics of noble society. At the end of each day however, there was always time for play with Draco and Dora. Mrs. Malfoy, now Aunt Cissy, had given the pair a couple of old brooms. Dora had attempted to teach Harry the art of flight, only to find that he took to air like a bird. He had gone so far as to dive down very hard and pull up at the last moment (causing the elders to yell blue murder) and then spent the day grinning idiotically, despite being grounded for a week.

Life was certainly happier.

* * *

Draco Malfoy lay quietly on his bed at his Aunt's home. His life had changed irrevocably within the space of a month and half. Then he would have to don some dim-witted dress robes strung up in Victorian fashion. He wouldn't have dared to smile, let alone let out roaring laughter as he was wont to do now. He had to entertain other pureblood heirs in keeping with the tradition of alliances.

" _Pureblood Heirs_ " he sneered. A proper honest to God sneer, a very useful expression for showing distaste that he had learnt in his time of pretention. That and Occlumency were the only remnants of his old life. He wondered how he had even managed to allow himself to be swayed by the propaganda that his father expounded. He made a face at the memory of Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, Urquhart and his cronies. He had retained the customs and ethics lessons, but that was because he knew he would need them later; there was the question of the Wizengamot seat after all. That had been drilled into him from early on; the seat equated with power. Yet he never truly believed in what he was expected to believe. When he would manage it though, he would be in power to show what he believed. Right now, he was getting a chance to do exactly that.

He had hardly ever had friends in the proper sense of the word before. Leanne came close, but his father had put paid to that. _Just because she was a muggle._ How things had changed! Somehow or the other, the person he had been taught to hate (though truthfully, he really couldn't care less) was now his friend. His first **_friend_** in the wizarding world. In just a month and half, Harry Potter had, through some weird form of Legillimency that could surpass any barrier, had drawn him out using his own secrets. Now he could- like any proper eleven year old should- play normal games, tease others without thinking of some odd notions of blood purity, and mainly, be free from the boardroom games of faux alliances that he had to forge. That was his biggest achievement after his freedom. He had managed to be his own person away from the fear of his father. His cousin, who as a half-blood was somebody to look down upon, was now his role-model. She was going to be an Auror and was studying for it; so he would too. Harry was already working with them unofficially, so he would have company. He had gone so far as to think of the two as the sister and brother he never had. They were the ones who worked past his grudgingly accepted beliefs to return him to his own way of thought. They were his real family now.

Then there was Long- no, Neville. When he had started coming around to play and study with them, Draco had shied away at first. Even his mother and Aunt Andy were not exactly comfortable around him. His _other_ aunt was responsible for Neville's parents' condition after all. It had taken time for both the boys to stop being skittish around the other. They still managed to be polite (that was proper etiquette after all), and they even had gone up to the level of a little good-natured ribbing. Still, they tended to walk on egg-shells around each other. They were decent acquaintances, nearly friends, but both knew that it was more for Harry's sake. He often wondered if somehow the Longbottom couple were revived, Neville would be his friend too.

His wish had actually been worked upon, though he didn't know it.

* * *

Augusta Longbottom got an emergency call from St. Mungo's on the 23rd of July, 1991. She was advised to keep all her obligations aside and delegate Neville's care for the day (which wasn't difficult, given that he had just received his Hogwarts letter). Fearing the worst, she reached the hospital, trying her best to hold back her tears.

It was when she reached the Healer's office that she had to let go of her stoically cultivated brave face. Tears streaming her face, she cast the healer a questioning look. "When?"

"Ever since that small new Healer you have sent. We have never seen his face, but the improvements were marked over the past six weeks that he has come here. I believe he is a mind healer of some sort."

"Improvements? They aren't dead?"

The Healer looked at the older woman quizzically, and then said, "Dead? Merlin, no. Both have become so aware that they can give a very coherent response, they can recognise us; they have even started eating on their own. The only thing left is for them to speak to _us_. I am reasonably sure they speak to him. That, and the fact that they need to regain their physical strength. Where did you find this Healer?"

"I- I never sent anyone!"

The Healer stood up suddenly in shock. This was worth her job. An unknown person had come along and she had allowed contact with two very high profile patients. She had been hoodwinked into believing the Healer.

"What do I do now?" she asked hoarsely.

Dowager Longbottom seemed to have regained some semblance of strength now. "When is this Healer next scheduled to come?"

"Now, in about 10 minutes. Every Tuesday, 10 a.m. and every evening except Sundays. That's been the routine for the past three weeks."

"I see." The schedule made old Augusta Longbottom reasonably sure about the identity of this mystery healer.

The minutes passed by, and at 10 o' clock, there was a knock on the door. Dowager Longbottom disillusioned herself and stood to a side as the Healer opened the door. Harry came in hooded, and then with an obvious frown in his voice, he spoke to the Healer. "I see that you have divulged my secret, Healer Smith. I had asked you not to, _specifically._ You went and called Mrs. Longbottom herself."

To say that the two ladies were shocked was an understatement. "Well she is your employer. You said so yourself, didn't you?"

"I never did. I said that I was known to the Longbottoms and working in interest of the patients. You believed otherwise. You swore, you took the oath and now you have broken it." His voice had risen considerably. His rant would have continued had it not been for Augusta.

"Harry, I have recognised you. Please take the hood off."

Harry complied grudgingly. Immediately the Healer Smith shrieked, "It's Harry Potter-" only to be cut off by the baleful and fierce glance that the other two cast her.

Eyeing her young charge, the formidable woman poured authority into her word. "Explain."

"Come then." The resignation colouring his voice was palpable.

They entered the ward in various states of duress. Harry stropped in, shoulders sagging. He was followed by an irate Healer Smith and a barely constrained Dowager Longbottom. The sound of their entry alerted Frank and Alice.

Turning to the trio, with a questioning frown on her face, Alice ventured, "Harry? It isn't the 30th yet is it?"

The answering gasps of the two women and the sad shake of Harry's head befuddled her completely. "Why did you bring them here?"

"I didn't. Healer Smith broke her oath." Turning to the two women behind him, he said testily, "Now, if your curiosity has been quenched, please leave. I intend to work now, and we are going to bring Neville here on his birthday, when they will be discharged. They are still weak, so no apparition or Floo. Hire a car, please." He turned and nodded to Frank and Alice, who shrugged and nodded in return.

Healer Smith broke the relative silence. "What did you do, Mr. Potter? We have been trying for ten years with no results. I demand to know your treatment!"

"No. If someone else has been afflicted with such a condition, contact me, I will be happy to help. My secret is my own, and _you_ haven't proven to be too trustworthy." This made Alice chuckle, albeit condescendingly.

"Harry..." she said in a voice rich with authority.

"Sorry" was the response, though the tone said quite clearly that he wasn't sorry at all.

Deciding that this was not the time for explanations, but knowing that they were needed to protect the boy who had given back to her children their sanity, she ushered the Healer out. She sighed. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

A week later, Neville sat pensively upon a chair by the fire watching his new friend. Neville kept feeling a stab of anger at the beatific smile that adorned Harry's face. Why and how could anyone be content when he had to watch his parents in such a piteous state? He wanted nothing more than to strangle the other boy. A while later, much to his consternation, Harry smirked. It was all Neville could do to calm his temper. He had hoped that his parents would be able to wake up from their affliction at least by the time he would go to Hogwarts, and that was his first thought when he got his letter.

Bustling into the room, Augusta herself couldn't keep a straight face, and that didn't go unobserved by her grandson. It didn't take much for him to realise that something was different. He had lived with his rather dour grandmother for ten years, and she was breaking into smiles which she was barely able to stifle. Something was different.

After spending sometime willing the prone figures in front of him to wake up and talk to him, Neville sighed in frustrated resignation.

"So well, Dad, Mum, today is my eleventh birthday. I will be going to Hogwarts this year. I have made two new friends you know; Harry, he is mum's godson. Did you know that he helps Aurors in their cases? He helped arrest Lucius Malfoy, and that was after throwing him into a wall for torturing his son for befriending a muggle. Draco Malfoy, he is my other friend. I always feared that I wouldn't have too many friends at school, because I was always with Gran. But I already have friends! It's rather nice. At least for the most part it is. There are times when those two go insane, become extremely devious and set about pulling pranks on anyone and everyone around.

"Well, the thing is, Gran is going to give me your wand. But Harry suggested that I let you have it today, before I start using it. So, well here it is. I tried mum's wand and it was friendlier, but Gran said I should use yours..."

"Neville tell her to come here, and I will tell her about wandlore."

Neville looked up to see his parents smiling at him. He blinked several times, and shook his head, then pinched himself. He was yet to ascertain whether that was reality.

"Neville, love, come here. Don't keep your mouth open this way lest you catch some bug up there."

Numbly Neville walked across to the beds where his parents had been placed, before collapsing onto one. He was instantly engulfed by a pair of arms and then another, as father, mother and son wept with joy. "I wished for this for many years you know. It's very nice of you, to be up, just in time to see me off to Hogwarts." The voice was thick with emotion.

"We are sorry, son. We lost too much time, too much time that we could have spent with you three..." Alice Longbottom wasn't faring much better than her son, while Frank was as yet unable to articulately put his thoughts into words. They sat in silence for a while, overwhelmed with joy.

Finally, breaking the silence, Frank intoned gravely, "Now, now, Neville, do call in your Grandmother and the Healer."

Neville passed the message out to the attendant to pass on. He could only gasp in surprise a few moments later when his grandmother walked in accompanied by Harry- who was grinning madly- wearing the Healer's robes.

"You! You slimy, sneaky little git! That's why you couldn't keep a straight face this morning!"

"Guilty as charged, Heir Longbottom!" was the response, accompanied by a cheeky grin. "Happy birthday, Nev!"

Neville got up abruptly, rushed up to Harry, and then after smacking him upside the head, engulfed him in a bone-crushing hug. "You brat! This is the best ever birthday gift anyone has ever given me!"

Stiffening first at the contact, then smiling slightly, he finally started flailing his arms and gasped, "Air! I need air! Lemme breathe Nev!"

"Yes Neville, let your poor godbrother breathe, after all, he has to help sanction our discharge today."

At that moment, it was a very close call in the competition for the widest smile between the two boys.

* * *

After they all returned to the Longbottom Manor later that day, Frank fire called Andromeda Tonks that Harry would be staying over for the night. It had taken a shocked Andromeda the sound of Dora crashing into the dinner table to find her wits and nod numbly.

It was over dinner, that Harry was asked to finally reveal his secret. He started off nervously, because he had taken quite a radical approach to the problem. "Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom, I have done something that as former Aurors you will most certainly frown upon. So, first of all, I need you to promise me that you won't reveal my secret, and also that you won't call the Aurors to arrest me _and_ also that you won't call me a Dark Wizard."

Frank, Alice and Augusta exchanged a few glances between them and then regarded the boy in front of them. Alice decided to put him at ease. "Harry, I don't think you could have done anything illegal to us; and, even if you have, we will forgive you this one time. Also, please do away with the formalities. You better start calling us Frank and Alice or if it suits you better, Uncle and Aunt as you would have." She smiled reassuringly to press her point further.

Harry looked at the three adults keenly, as if they were some extremely interesting exhibit. Then his face brightening, he smiled happily.

"Thanks Aunt Alice! First of all, then, I need you to recall the effects of a Dementor's Kiss."

Everyone in the room shuddered involuntarily. That was one of the worst things that the magical world entailed.

"Exactly. I actually got the idea of what was happening from Dora's NEWT DADA books. The human existence is actually a summation of a living body, working mind and a soul. The living body and mind can't function separately; one is physical while the other is intangible. That explains why, when we put up Occlumency shields, it becomes difficult to actually feel anything- physically or emotionally. The soul provides the connection between the two entities, and you must know that it is somewhere in between. When you had such a prolonged exposure to unbearable pain, your respective minds tried to protect themselves using the shields. That was a survivalist response. But the shields were so strong, that your mind lost its connection with the soul. That basically is what happens in the Dementor's kiss. Over time, as there had not been any Legillimency attempted on you, your minds went into stasis, making you both resist any sort of treatment and that could have actually led to you losing your sanity completely. That was my theory of what I think happened. Are you with me up to this point?"

"Somewhat", interrupted Frank. "How did you know that our souls were intact? The way I see it, you were reasonably sure that our minds were affected and not our souls."

"No. I didn't say that the souls were unaffected. Remember your promise- nothing of what I say goes out of this room." He looked at them all in turn fiercely and they all nodded in acceptance. "Gran Augusta knows that Professor Dumbledore has been teaching me to exercise constraint on my will while using Legillimency. I tried, really tried. Now I could- _dim_ , you could say- the thoughts, emotions and anything that the minds of anyone I looked at could contrive, so that there wouldn't be a strain on my magic. Yet, I could still see the 'colours' of each person. Don't ask me what your colours are, I won't tell. It was then that I realised that I wasn't looking at either the body or the mind. I could see the **_soul._** The soul has imprints of all actions in the surroundings- actions of the person and actions perpetrated on the person as well as the emotional response to **_all_** of them. There was definite hurt on that link. So I dosed you up on the first aid that any Healer recommends for prolonged exposure to dementors: chocolate. Healing the link was important. Otherwise you would have ended up in a vegetative state with mind consciousness."

The awe that they were in, regarding the deductions and the understanding of the young boy, was exhibited clearly on their faces. The last revelation quickly changed that to a grimace that caused Harry to chuckle. The mood lightened for a moment, before Harry sobered up. Alice gestured at him to continue.

"Now, here is the part where I had to do something highly illegal. I can understand if you'll be angry with me at the end. Anyway, I must press on. The Occlumency shields on each of your minds were extremely abstract and therefore formidable. I could have gone through with natural Legillimency by Professor Dumbledore, since I am not a real Legillimens, but that would have taken far too much time. So I went with active Legillimency. Now, before you ask, I know this because I have taken to reading the Aurors' library, and you know they have books on the mind arts. I had to work my way around the traps and puzzling situations that were the shields. Unsanctioned Legillimency is a crime and I know it. But that actually pales in comparison to what I did, rather, had to do next." He took a deep breath, and then looked at them all in an almost pleading sort of way.

"I am sorry I had to do what I did. If there had been another way, I would have used it. I didn't know of any. Uncle Frank, between yours and Aunt Alice's wands, I was friendlier with yours. I stole it and used it. I- I used the Imperius Curse on you!"

"WHAT!" bellowed the venerable dowager. She looked at the young boy with a little bit of horror mingled with distaste, making him shrink with fright while staring fixedly at the floor thereafter.

"Mum! Please let him explain. He has brought us back when none of the rest could. I can understand your revulsion to the Unforgivables. But he hasn't harmed us with any. He has helped instead. Consider the facts. He has the power to cast an Unforgivable Curse and yet _not_ cause any harm. He has that much restraint. He is feeling bad about it already; don't you pile more guilt on him." Frank's admonishment made his mother look slightly abashed and contrite, while Harry smiled at him weakly before continuing, after fixing his stare back to the floor.

"Since I first repaired your links, and the bodies were strong enough anyway, your minds which were in stasis, had to be strengthened. I knew only one way in which magic interacted with the mind without causing physical damage. After breaking down your shields, if I had used Legillimency again, you could've really lost your minds. Now, the books that Dora showed said that the Imperius takes control of the mind. There wasn't any mention of the soul. So, I reasoned, that since it affected both the body to cause actions and the mind to relay those actions to the body in the first place, it must give the individual a _proxy_ link between the mind and the body. This meant that your own souls couldn't directly take control of your bodies. It was _me_ doing the controlling part. Your minds were locked in the pain and the revengeful responses of your last active memories. In effect, I bore the pain of the last Cruciatus curses cast on you, otherwise you would have reverted into the vegetative state. It wasn't physical, because that had been cured by the Healers. It was purely ment-"

"So that was why you were crying for two days the week before last!" At Harry's questioning glance, Neville added contritely, "Draco told me."

"Yes. It relieved all my years with the Dursleys, my memory of Voldemort killing my parents; just about everything bad", Harry said with his voice thickening at the memory.

They all sat transfixed for a minute, an oppressive silence washing over them. Then Augusta Longbottom pulled him over, weeping openly, all dignity forgotten, and hugged him as tightly as she could. Frank and Alice joined them soon, as did Neville. No words were exchanged further. Indeed, none were needed.

Harry was only too glad for the acceptance and gratitude he received to realise that he had let slip about the time with the Dursleys. The Longbottoms were a fierce bunch when anyone hurt their family; and Harry was just that. A certain muggle family was going to feel the full brunt of their collective ire.


	4. Chapter 4

**Celebrations and Meetings**

 **A/N: 'Bonded Wand** ' borrowed with permission from Harmonious Cannons.

* * *

The next day, the 31st of July 1991, was by all accounts a momentous day for Harry. A week prior, he had received his Hogwarts letter, and had immediately sent the reply. He didn't know just yet, but his message (a cheeky, "Beware, I am coming") had the usually imperturbable Professor McGonagall nervous and anxious about the son of James Potter. He had delayed the purchase of his school stuff till after the Longbottom couple were to be discharged. Andromeda Tonks on the other hand had decided that a party for him (the first that he would be able to remember) was certainly a necessity. She had roped in a very compliant Draco (a firecracker in the cake was a very innocent thing to do), an excited Neville (it _was_ his first friend's birthday after all) and a doting Dora (he was _her_ little brother) to organise it. As he no longer needed to visit St. Mungo's in the evenings, they had shifted the party to the evening of the 31st. They had decided to invite most of the Aurors (Kingsley had taken care of that) and the old Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall (she was his God-grandmother, if there was such a thing). None of the invited knew about the Longbottom couple's revival.

When they landed up at the stairs of Gringotts (side-alonged by Gran Augusta), he immediately sank to his knees as the extremely discomforting feeling of apparition washed over him.

"Tell me again, Gran, why didn't we come by broom." His whining elicited a rare, amused smile from the stoic old woman.

"Quit your grumbling young man. Come on up, sharpish. You are the heir of the House of Potter; behave that way."

Grumbling about hideous pipes and odd squeezing feelings, he followed her into the bank. Scooping money from his trust vault, they set away to vault #72, the family vault of the Potters. It wasn't the wealth stored there that caught his eyes. A painting of his parents smiled and waved to him. He stood gazing at it with unhidden longing.

"Mum? Dad?"

"Son! Harry! Lils! That mangy mutt has brought him at last! Where is Sirius, Harry? I need to have words with him. Why did it take him ten long years to bring my son here?"

Seeing that Harry was in no position to answer, Augusta cut in. "James, Harry wasn't with Sirius..." she said very delicately.

"He isn't dead, is he, Augusta? He left Harry too?" Lily asked, almost fearfully.

"I don't know how to say it. How can you be worried about a man who lies in Azkaban for betraying you to He-who-must-not-be-named?"

"Padfoot is in Azkaban?" the calmness of his words was belied by the anger that coloured James' face.

Unbidden, a long-lost memory of a shaggy black dog frolicking around flashed across Harry's eyes. Looking at his father with the most distraught expression, he asked, "It was the rat, wasn't it? Not Sirius. He was the dog."

Even in the portrait, his parents managed an astonished squeak. "You remember? You remember Padfoot? Yes it was Peter. The _rat_." Lily fairly spat the word.

Augusta was listening to this conversation with rising comprehension and didn't need further explanation to connect the dots. All of a sudden, the murder of Peter Pettigrew wasn't the work of a crazed Death Eater. It was an act of revenge, of unbound anguish, borne out of the loss of a close friend.

"Mum? Who was the tigress?"

"The tigress?"

Realising that his mother didn't know about such a person, he told them all about his dream. The animals, and their positions and actions were all concisely explained.

"The dog was Padfoot, the doe was your mum, I was the stag, and the wolf was Moony." Looking over to his son, he realised that his son didn't know about his other friend either. Looking at Augusta, he said, "I take it, that Umbridge woman got the law against werewolves passed?"

"Yes. Sirius was a werewolf too?" The old prejudices against werewolves were right at the surface, and that was easily discernible through her tone.

Frowning, James said, "No. Remus was. Frankie knew that."

Augusta launched into a rant chastising her son and the rest of the marauders about gallivanting with a werewolf; it just seemed to go on and on. She finally stopped when she could see that neither of the Potters was especially pleased with her.

"Dad, what exactly happens to a werewolf?"

Realising that he needed to remove a very big misconception, he explained exactly what it entailed to be a werewolf. "A werewolf, is _born_ only to parents who are both afflicted with the disease. People like Remus Lupin become werewolves because they are, or were bitten by another werewolf on the full moon night, when they no longer remain human. They suffer greatly, as they have relatively low immunity in the week of the full moon, age faster than unaffected people, and are heavily discriminated against by others." Here he threw Augusta a dirty look, which was returned with interest. "They can't get jobs, mostly have to live alone, start shunning human contact, many become suicidal. What most people fail to realise is that for the other twenty-eight days, the person is fully in control. A werewolf who gets the friendship, companionship and love from those around him is a very powerful entity unto himself. Did you know that he would do anything to protect you? He was your Uncle Moony, not that you could say it properly; you called him Uncle Moo. And he called you 'cub'" he added wistfully.

"Dad? So Uncle Moony, he is alone, just because he has a furry little problem?"

All the adults looked at him as if he had just said something extremely radical. Then James started laughing his head off. Seeing that he wouldn't stop, and also catching the bewilderment on Harry's face, Lily shoved James out of the portrait, and apologetically said to the living pair, "I don't know what's gotten to him; you go meet Sirius, son. Maybe, he can tell you what this all means."

Deciding to keep the Will for later, the two accompanied a suitably bemused Goblin out of the vault. They made arrangements for keeping his vaults (except the trust vault) and noble titles on hold, shrunk his parents portrait with an adjustable resizing charm and went on to the rest of their business.

* * *

Harry was now rife with excitement as they made their way towards Ollivander's. As soon as they entered inside, the magic of the wands seemed to overwhelm him. It was indeed surreal. He was so caught up in the experience that he didn't see the inconspicuous and sudden presence of the wand-maker. When the old man called out, "Mr. Potter", Harry jumped out of his skin, startled, so violently that the reaction startled the wizened old wand-maker too. This caused all three of them to share a rather benign chuckle.

"So, Mr. Potter, after that less than dignified introduction, we should turn to business. You know, I make my business to gauge my customers' temperament to predict the sort of wand that should suit them. Your mother, with whom you share your eyes, was favoured by a ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow wand suited particularly for charm work. Eyes, you know, are the windows to the soul. Would you be like her then? Or would you be like your father whom you look like extraordinarily? He was favoured by a Mahogany wand with a Dragon heartstring core, eleven inches and very pliable and powerful. Particularly useful for transfiguration work. You will be right handed then?"

"Ambidextrous, sir."

The measuring tape started measuring Harry in the most unimaginable places on his face and abdomen. Just as it dropped, the old man brought out several boxes of wands for Harry to try. On seeing his puzzled face, he explained, "Some wands need the connection to the magical core from the left hand while some can connect through the right hand. Frankly, we only can make them, but can't know which hand the wand favours."

Harry tried. And tried. He tried different wands, he switched hands, but the right match was not forthcoming. Mr. Ollivander though seemed to revel while Harry quickly became exasperated. He also seemed to be holding something back. Finally, he came up with one that he seemed almost loathe to offer. "Should this be it? I wonder indeed. Let's see you try it. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

No sooner did he touch it than he had a feeling of sudden warmth. He brought it swishing down to release a sparkle of red and gold stars. "Mr. Potter! Indeed, this is very curious. This wand chose you, when its brother with whom it shares the core gave you that scar. Remember Mr. Potter, the wand chooses the wizard. The two brother wands will each work for their respective owners, as well as for the one who wields the brother. We must expect great things from you!"

At this, Gran Augusta couldn't resist her pride showing through. "He already has, ousting a Minister for Magic and curing my children is no mean feat you know!"

Garrick Ollivander had sold wands to witches and wizards who had done all sorts of great things. He was a person who measured power as equated with both the wand and the position. None came close to ousting the incumbent Minister for Magic at the age of eleven. His eyes bulging, he stared at the boy who was eyeing his wand with a bizarre mixture of satisfaction and disappointment.

"The wand doesn't appeal to you, Mr. Potter?"

"It is perfect, nearly..." he trailed off.

"But not so much that it seems a natural part of you?" he asked with a knowing smile.

Harry beamed at him as his exact thoughts were being articulated. "Yes, exactly. Now, I will understand if you deem me insane for saying this, but I can feel a wand calling out to me." He looked at the old man with a little trepidation. If he expected either of the two adults to laugh at him or brush him off, he was in for a very large surprise.

With wonder and awe in their voices, Madam Longbottom and Mr. Ollivander chorused in a whisper, "You can feel the call of a wand?"

"Sorry sir. I didn't mean to offend you. This wan-"

"Silly boy! I am not offended! It is the highest honour for a wand-maker to have made a wand that calls to its human! Please come here, and follow the calls of the, voice? Follow it. It is bound to be a wand of much importance!"

Emboldened, Harry set himself upon the trail of this wand. He delved deeper and deeper into the shop where the older wands were housed (this made Ollivander _very_ happy) until he reached a row where he was sure the wand just wanted nothing more than to connect with his hands. He climbed up the ladder to the third level of the shelf, and finally reached out to the box. It fairly vibrated in his hands. He returned to the shop front. He made to hand the box to Garrick Ollivander who cringed away from it.

"Mr. Potter! I cannot touch it. Indeed, nobody else can! It chose you and was made for you. Open it, and hold the wand, bond with it; make your magic one with the wand."

Harry only had to open the box; no sooner did he do so, than the wand fairly leapt into his hands. The resulting feeling of sheer power and of his mind being opened to infinite possibilities almost put him in a daze. He quietly sat down on the chair and took deep breaths to steady himself. The two elders observed him as he did so, seemingly at a loss of words to say.

Finally, Mr. Ollivander offered, "That, Mr. Potter is one extremely dangerous wand. Perhaps an explanation would be necessary. The woods are of great symbolism, Hazelwood reinforced with oak. The core of the wand though is an absolute astonishment. A tail hair of a Griffin, a tail hair of a unicorn, eye-string of a Basilisk, a dragon-heartstring, and a phoenix feather, all strengthened by the essence of an erumpent's horn. It is powerful, very much so. It is capable of very powerful magic; light and dark. You must not fear it. A bonded wand will always obey the owner. So you must use it carefully. Use the wand only for special circumstances."

Harry had been listening to Ollivander extolling the details of the wand. "Sir, I have spent the past two months learning more about the nature of magic than is possible in the normal schoolwork. Magic is neither light nor dark; it is the wizard or witch who is so. That is of course, my belief. If a so-called dark sort of magic is used for the proper purposes, it benefits the light side and so, has no business being classified as dark. It's the intent that matters." He said it quite respectfully, but firmly; it had his tutor in customs and ethics beaming.

"Mr. Potter, I find myself impressed by your logic. It is a concept that most magical folk have problems coming to terms with. Be that as it may, since you were chosen by two wands, you will need a special license from the Ministry." Handing him a form to fill-up, he guided him through the bureaucratic procedure. "I will be sending it to them with the wand specifications as this will put up the trace on both wands. Ministry representatives will Owl the licence to you."

As they left the shop having paid thirty-five galleons for the two wands and eight more for four holsters, Harry made sure to turn back and say, "Mr. Ollivander, I know you will be writing to the Headmaster that I have the Holly wand; after all the tail feather is from his familiar. I would be much obliged if you refrained from mentioning the second wand until absolutely necessary. In fact, I would prefer to tell him about it personally. It was a pleasure meeting you, sir. Good-day!"

He left a flabbergasted wand-maker in his wake.

* * *

Augusta Longbottom was observing Harry as he navigated the gawks, stares and watchful eyes of the crowd in Diagon Alley while they shopped for his school things. While he showed the quintessentially British stiff upper lip and kept his face studiously emotionless, and very politely greeted those that approached him while making their acquaintance, in the quieter moments of the day, his face showed turmoil. More importantly, whenever people made to pat him across the shoulders or grip them, he stiffened perceptibly. He had always shied from any sort of physical contact, though he had somewhat warmed up to the people now around him. It was obvious that something had happened before he met the Aurors that made him distrust any adult, first and foremost. It seemed that his trust wasn't freely given and had to be earned. She wondered whether she herself had managed it at all. Andromeda and Ted had, that was for sure, and so had the Aurors. He had, only in a moment of extreme vulnerability, mentioned his time with his muggle relatives as being something terrible, on the same scale as some sort of hidden memory of He-who-must-not-be-named murdering his parents. What had they done to him?

What really astounded her, though, was the fact that he did not revel in attention. It seemed as if he was almost allergic to it. That had been something that she had had to work on a lot. She had worked hard to make him understand his place in the British magical society, not only from the point of view of his fame but also the threats that it posed him from the fringe elements. He had grudgingly accepted that he was famous, but by no means did he accept his fame. The answer that she got when she had questioned him about it was one that showed her his intrinsic way of thought. It wasn't he who had defeated Voldemort (he used the name; not doing so was disrespect to his parents' sacrifice), but his mother who had done so. She had been his shield. Whatever had happened in order to prevent his death had been his mother's doing. It endeared the boy to her even more.

One thing she was certain about was the standing of the child with her family. He was part of it. He had been grievously hurt by the muggles, and it was her duty as his grandmother to punish them. She somehow knew that he wouldn't tell her about whatever it was that he had to bear. She had one thread to follow: the Aurors had taken him out of the horrid place and they must have known something about it. She was going to use that. And she was going to be judge, jury and executioner.

She kept up with her observations as they went about their shopping. The school list was done. The boy really deserved a present. An animal wouldn't really be amiss.

A true smile lit up Harry's face for the first time that day, as soon as they entered the Magical Menagerie. The hoots of the owls, the squeaks of the rats, the hissing of the snakes; the whole atmosphere seemed to appeal to him. He stood aside for a moment, soaking it all in. Then they started wandering around the place, with Harry leading the way. He stopped first by the rats and gazed at them as if searching for something; Augusta knew that he was actually very angry and probably detested the creatures. Apparently satisfied that Pettigrew wasn't in among them, she followed him wordlessly as he moved on. He went to the _snakes_.

She knew that Harry was an inherently good person. She knew that Parseltongue was just another language, one that she couldn't understand. She knew that it was ungrateful to judge him based on such a unique ability. She knew it. But she wasn't prepared for it, particularly because she didn't know that he was a Parselmouth. As soon as he approached the crate, he put his hand inside and started hissing out to them. She had an iron will and an iron constitution, but the sight of the snakes slithering over his hands while he smiled happily and rubbed their heads, completely oblivious to the terrified stares. Parseltongue, a sure shot at being a Dark Lord. Augusta desperately hoped that Harry would come to his senses and beat a retreat before things took a turn for the worse. Perhaps he understood the sentiment, for he suddenly looked up at her and smiled and then bade the snakes to return to the crate with a hiss.

Paying no heed to the fact that the shop had now gone silent as everyone watched him speak Parseltongue, he moved over to the section where the owls were kept. He started hooting a slightly musical hoot as the owls started to descend upon him, softly landing to his side. He kept up with his rather peculiar behaviour. If Parseltongue was a shock, speaking owl was totally unheard of. He seemed to be actually conversing with several of them, before one of the owls- a beautiful snowy female- apparently made her decision, lightly landed on his shoulder and then nibbled at his ear. Harry smiled happily and then whistled out another low hoot which must have been a farewell of sorts for the owls; they all took off as one and flew back to the owlery. Harry continued to converse with the owl, a series of low and deep exchanges, before the boy laughed a tinkling, musical laugh.

"What is it Harry?"

"Nothing, I just told her that I wanted to call her Hedwig. She was miffed; she told me that her company would make me wiser. Her name is Athena. I don't know about wisdom, but she does have wise-cracks up her feathers." All the people around looked at him as if he had grown another head, and he realised it. "What's wrong Gran?"

"You can talk to owls?" she asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Didn't Professor Dumbledore tell you? Dudley drove away any humans that I tried to befriend, but he was scared of animals. So I befriended them instead. I can talk to all animals. Aurors Shacklebolt and Moody know that too!"

"But you are a Parseltongue! Only Dark Wizards have been known to have that ability!"

"Do you think I am dark?" The offended as well as hurt tone was discernible to everyone around. "Snakes, dogs, cats and the like were my first friends. I had to learn to talk to them."

Augusta immediately realised what he was doing. He was garnering sympathy for the poor Parselmouth. The fact that he could communicate with other animals because his childhood had only them as friends made the image all the more angst-ridden. She smiled inwardly; that was a masterstroke. In one fell swoop, he had made the people reconsider the Parselmouths are evil postulate. They quietly paid for Athena and made their way out as noise reigned again in the shop.

* * *

For the simple reason that Longbottom Manor had much more space and the revival of Frank and Alice was to be kept as a surprise. Not that Harry knew about the party; it was a surprise for him to savour.

The guests started arriving around six that evening; first the Tonkses and the Malfoy mother and son, with Neville quickly finding his two co-conspirators. The fact that he had a definite spring in his step was not missed by anyone. Aurors Shacklebolt, Moody and Jones soon joined them, with the Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall following soon after. It was rather amusing to see Harry's joyful expression when he saw the people who had come along for him. Draco commented rather innocently that Harry seemed to behave more like a three year old who would be more likely to smear cake across his face than to eat it. Harry realised soon after that Draco had gotten Dora to rig the cake to explode in Harry's face as soon as he would drive the knife through it. He unfortunately forgot Harry's initiation into spells and hexes courtesy Dora; he spent the rest of the party under a combination of a cheering charm and a tickling hex, making him seem rather hysterical. Neville only shook his head in dismay, before commenting, "I will be glad if all three of us don't get sorted together at Hogwarts. I'll have to babysit you both for all seven years."

Hearing this Harry dropped the incantations he had put on Draco, before they both mock-grovelled and begged for forgiveness. Seeing his rather unrelenting mood, Draco finally whined, "But Nevi, you will be bored out of your skin if we aren't around!"

Harry meanwhile managed a theatrical sniff and clutched his heart. "It is our loss Draco! Our brother doesn't want us anymore!"

Minerva McGonagall froze. This was exactly the sort of byplay she had seen for seven long years, starting almost exactly twenty years to the day prior. She fondly remembered the quartet that was the centre of every mischief in their time. They had been together in most of their capers and had almost made her life living hell as the Head of House for Gryffindor. She couldn't help but draw parallels to the situations; a Potter, another child marked at an early age who seemed the mature one, a non-conformist from a dark family. A fourth and she would be reliving her worst nightmare, and her fondest memories. Her main concern was someone going down the path that Sirius Black had taken. She could bear almost anything. But betrayal among such close friends was not one of the things.

Harry had been observing the tumult of emotions coursing through his father's Godmother. Suddenly finding himself unable to come up with the correct honorific, he settled for Professor. He decided that he would break the news regarding the Longbottoms and his bonded wand to take her mind off the subject. He had to meet Sirius before he could take any action.

Calling everybody's attention, he nodded to Neville. He thanked them in a very heartfelt manner for the surprise party, before deciding to spring his own surprise.

"Thank you for this party!" he gushed. "But you aren't the only ones with a trick up your sleeves!"

As if on cue, Frank and Alice came into the room, smiling brightly. There could have been no doubt as to their health; they looked perfect in every sense of the word if a bit frail. The room went silent for a whole minute as Harry, Neville and Augusta smirked. Then pandemonium reigned. In the noise and distraction of this rather momentous event, Harry and Neville caught up with Draco.

"Dragon", Neville started, "I have something to say. I know you weren't completely comfortable around me because of your Aunt and my parents."

Draco nodded mutely and ducked his head a bit.

"Don't worry, Harry told me, he always knows. Well just listen. Bellatrix may be related to you, but she isn't the Aunt I would relate you with. She isn't your family really. We are, and we are all here for you. Just so you know, my Grandmother was a Lestrange and a Slytherin."

Draco jerked his head so fast his neck cricked. Neville chuckled slightly. "Yes. She was Rudolphus's and Rabastan's Aunt. Bad people abound in every family. It is up to us to decide which ones to associate with."

Harry took on from there. "And well, mate, your mother's father and my Grandmother Dorea were first cousins: she was a Black. So somehow we are all related. We aren't really down to discuss genealogy, but just stressing that we will always be friends and cousins, almost brothers with Draco Malfoy, who by unfortunate happenstance is Bellatrix Lestrange's nephew."

Draco finally felt that he truly belonged.

* * *

The elders meanwhile were engrossed in the tale of the recovery of the Longbottom couple, as told by Augusta Longbottom. Frank and Alice provided bits of it every now and then. The deductions and the radical solution did amaze everyone. However, the use of two spells which could quite easily be used with a criminal intent was something that bothered the two teachers, the Aurors and Dora. How a boy of only eleven could cast an Unforgivable was beyond them. Coupled with Kingsley's information that Harry was a Parseltongue, there were enough doubts in their minds regarding Harry's magical leanings.

Andromeda took it upon herself to clear Harry's name in this regard. "You", she said with a lofty air worthy of the Black name, "are all prize fools. The Unforgivables were never Dark curses to begin with. They were all healing spells. A quick, painless death for a terminally ill patient was the objective of the killing curse. Pain in very measured and light amounts was actually a brain and nerve stimulant. Bellatrix loved getting under that curse just for the feeling that accompanied it. But the actual medical use was for the paralysed or the similarly incapacitated. The Imperius was actually used to control the patient during hospital stays as they often lacked the intrinsic strength to manage the instructions from the Healers. What Harry did was to use the Curse as was intended originally, though he doesn't know it. That explains why he always had that very guilty air about him ever since he first met you both. Don't worry. He isn't going Dark. He is just using magic with the correct intentions."

Augusta piped up here. She described what had happened at Ollivander's including Harry recognising Fawkes's tail feather for the Holly wand's core. More importantly, she conveyed his belief regarding the nature of magic. To say that they were all amazed was an understatement. Albus Dumbledore most of all, marvelled at the depth of the eleven-year-old's thought process. It was something that he had always tried to teach his students. He smiled inwardly. The Chosen One had the power of magic it seemed.

He requested Harry to show him the other wand. He examined it as Harry held it and recited its components. "Harry, you should never volunteer information about something as personal as a wand. It is quite like telling others the size of your boxers." The Headmaster's chiding made Harry go red with embarrassment, causing him to miss the serious expression on the old man's face.

* * *

Thursday was work as usual at the Auror office. Hourly reports on known shady characters, reports from the Muggle artefacts office, lookouts for illegal magical travel and the like were constantly being monitored. As was now a common sight in the office, a raven haired boy was currently poring over the records of closed cases. It was a testament to how much trust was put with him that he was allowed near the sensitive and classified records. The file he was currently perusing was the one that had been gnawing away at his mind since the previous morning. Sirius Black. A man hated for betraying his parents and killing another friend; a man who was also his Godfather. A man who was languishing in the definition of hell on earth, a place that made the even Dursleys' treatment of Harry seem to be loving care. There were several possible solutions. First and foremost was to get the Aurors and the Ministry to bring up the old records, publicly say they made a mistake by never allowing an accused trial. That would be political suicide and the Ministry would never do it. Another was to get them to push it off on the previous administration but that was another political hot potato as the new administration would be shown in a weak light.

None of that was going to work. His searches through the file had thrown up something important. Nobody had visited the man in ten years. He had sought revenge upon the man who betrayed Harry's parents and had been rewarded with ten years in Azkaban. No. That would stop. He needed the whole truth. He had to absolve Sirius of at least the infamy of being a traitor. He immediately filed the visiting rights form for Sirius Black.

* * *

A fortnight later, Harry sat terrified in the boat that transported people to and from the Wizard gaol. He feared the dementors like nothing else. The reason was obvious. He could see the soul of every creature. What about dementors? They had none of their own and they feasted on the pained ones of other creatures. What if they had done that to Sirius? What if, he really was too late? What if, their effect was something else altogether? This was a man who hadn't even been given the chance to grieve his best friend's death. How would he react to seeing his Godson?

His thoughts must have flitted across his face, for Kingsley asked him in a grave whisper, "If you're having second thoughts, we can turn back, you know. I still don't like this."

Harry quietly patted his pocket where he had kept his gift for the prisoner. "Uncle King, for the last time. I am not going to turn back. I need the truth. I am going to talk to him. I am going to need you and the wardens to keep the vile creatures away; I am not sure how I will react to them. We have a proper plan as to how we will manage the visit, and we are going to stick with it."

Sirius Black on the other hand, wasn't in a much different state. Why was Prongslet coming to meet him now? Ten years. Ten years of knowing that Sirius Black had betrayed his parents. Was this some sort of revenge? Was this a parting shot before the boy left for Hogwarts? What if Peter somehow found him there? Who had the kid lived with? Even his musings weren't following any coherent line. Every time he lost track of things, there was one single truth that kept him sane. He knew he was innocent. He had made the one mistake of trusting the _rat._ He could've trusted Remus, he could've told Dumbledore, or he could've... so many contingencies; yet the one thing that really stood out was that when it mattered, he placed his trust in the wrong person. He was still paying for that mistake. Perhaps this meeting was part of that punishment.

The prisoner was brought in to the meeting room by the wardens, stunned and bound. The visitor had been given express permission to use any spells that might occur to him should the prisoner try anything violent. The dementors were sent away. Only Harry, Kingsley and an unconscious Sirius remained. Kingsley was however, shocked to see grief, happiness and anger competing for dominance on the boy's visage. He couldn't make head or tail of it. As planned, Kingsley set Sirius up on the chair and with a quick "enervate" had him conscious again. For some reason, the look of sheer fear on Black's face as Harry's eyes bore into him made the whole situation vaguely satisfying.

"Please leave us Uncle King." Both Black and Kingsley flinched at the edge in the boy's voice. The Auror had to admit, as far as interrogation went, this boy had the signs of a prodigy. He hastened to comply, but not before the parting shot, "I am going to have a transparency charm on the wall. If he tries anything, even the Dementors won't have him back."

"That won't be necessary. Keep the charm for your own benefit. Please do release him. I am sure, you will be shocked. I just want your promise that you'll trust me no matter what you see or what anyone says."

The Auror and the boy exchanged an intense, determined gaze. "Always."

As soon as he left, Harry assumed a seat across the wide table, sitting opposite to Black. His expression was inscrutable. Sirius looked at him with the most pained expression. Seeing James's face with Lily's eyes looking at him with what he perceived as anger was akin to a hundred deaths to him. Harry suddenly got up, walking towards the convict his hand in pocket. Assuming the worst, Sirius said in the most resigned tone, "I sure deserve whatever punishment you see fit, Mr. Potter."

The smirk in his voice fully audible, Harry replied, "You sure do, Mr. Black." Then as his bounds fell, Sirius saw his Godson looking at him in fury and grief yet happiness for some reason. Extracting his hand from his pocket, Harry produced a clutch of Honeydukes' finest chocolate bars and placed them in the hands of his godfather. "Eat up Padfoot. We need to talk about that bastard snake-face and his pet rat."

"You know!" rasped Sirius.

"Of course I do. Please don't go all mushy on me. Now isn't the bloody time. I know that rat is alive. I need you to tell me the whole story; I am working with the Aurors. I want you free, safe and sound."

The words itself had the effect of the brightest Patronus on poor Sirius Black. He knew he was innocent. And now, the most important person to him, believed him too. A sudden hug from the said person brought him out of his musings. How he wished for a wand. He could have cast a Patronus himself.

"I should technically scold you for your language you know, pup."

"That technically, would make you a hypocrite, you old dog." Sirius Black always prided himself to have an iron will, but the unmistakable tone of teasing and the smile that he knew on his true brother broke him. For the first time, in the presence of another, Sirius Black _sobbed_. The sobbing and sniffling soon gave way to high pitched wails and cries and howls of grief. It was Padfoot now who was at the fore.

Harry let him cry for a whole five minutes. As the man finally regained control, Harry said, "Let it out. Don't hold it in. But right now, I am going to call Uncle King in. He trusts me. More importantly, while not solid proof, they know that nobody can lie to me. So my believing you will at least set a few wheels in motion."

Sirius nodded numbly. Much of what Harry said hadn't really registered. Kingsley came in, and at Harry's insistence brought in Ministry approved Veritaserum along. Sirius welcomed it. Pup knew the truth. And now, he was helping to bring it out. He observed the byplay between his two visitors. It was obvious that Harry was being held in deference by Kingsley. Shrugging, he set it aside for another time. As soon as the potion was administered, he spilled out the whole story; every detail, every sight, sound and smell. When the antidote was administered, he had the feeling of catharsis engulfing him. He looked up to see two matching expressions of unrestrained fury. For a while no one spoke. Harry then assumed an expression that sent Sirius back into the throes of grief. It was the same look that James had when they were planning a prank of epic proportions.

"Padfoot, we can't really get you released right now. Firstly it will be a political hot potato for Madam Bones. She will be seen as digging up for a can of worms on the previous regime, thereby destabilising her. More importantly, it will alert the rat. From what you described this person as, would I be wrong to say that he will have chosen a magical family home to reside in? May not be as a pet, but at least as a rodent? I could go so far as to say that the family in question would have to be one on the side having nothing to do or opposing Voldie. We can't randomly search family homes either."

Though dismayed, Sirius could understand what Harry was trying to say. Peter Pettigrew alerted would end his chances of being freed forever. He had paid for his impatience. He would not do so again. Sure, their hopes hinged on the flimsy premise of finding Pettigrew. But if and when the rat would be brought to book, Sirius would have his freedom and his honour back. What his godson was suggesting was the most prudent way.

"Then there is the fact that as a wizard, he will have easily gotten past Muggle pest controllers. He must have a modicum of self-preservation to do that. So my first theory seems sound. What I am suggesting is for Uncle King to submit this report to Madam Bones and get the proper people on board with the secret. Most importantly, we need wardens who can be trusted. You on the other hand are to go quiet, catatonic if you will. Madam Bones can be convinced into moving you to a cell with a lower presence of Dementors."

Sirius looked at the boy in awe. This was an assiduously thought out plan. He was having trouble accepting it from an eleven year old. Kingsley caught on to his train of thought, surely, for he remarked, "Sirius, this is the spawn of the most devious prankster who had his own brand of wits and the brightest witch of her generation. He helped arrest Malfoy and added the million-galleon question: is it possible to have a Dark Mark under the Imperius curse? He helped bring down Fudge and Umbridge. What did you expect?"

Harry smiled, then in a very pleading voice implored, "Padfoot, I need you to be strong. You have had a very terrible ordeal and you don't know how bad I am feeling, having to convince you to grin and bear it. I promise I will set you free, if that is the last thing I should do. Right now I need you to concentrate on the rat's form. I will see it in your mind. Every detail is of importance. Take your time."

Sirius obeyed and pictured the rat, drawing heavily from his memories. He didn't ask any questions. Now was the time to trust the right person, and he was going to do just that. Ten years without a shred of a positive emotion had nearly taken their toll on Sirius Black. Yet now, in front of him, sat hope personified. He had made a hash of things once. Now with a proper plan in place and better conditions, he had something to look forward to. Hesitantly, he raised his hand and then gently ruffled Harry's hair. The very action brought a large grin to both their faces.

"Harry, I can hardly express how happy I am right now. Even the dementors won't affect me as badly as they did before today. If I may, however, I would like to add a detail. Get Remus Lupin on board. He hasn't visited me. Persuade him not to, even after he accepts the truth. It will be harmful to us. The thing is as a wolf, he has better senses than you all. Get his help on the search. The second thing is, ask him about the Marauder's Map. It can recognise animagi too. Set it up over the whole of Britain. It will reduce your work."

They shared a grin at this. A former Marauder was going to pay. Making promises to write as much as he could, Harry started to leave. Seizing his chance, Sirius accosted Kingsley. "How does he know so much?"

"My friend, wouldn't it be better to put it off till we get you free?" Kingsley asked with a sly smile.

* * *

Harry set out of the meeting room, his thoughts muddled more than ever. Was there no concept of a proper investigation? How was it that a case had come up, there was no trial, only few Aurors knew anything about it while others just assumed the circumstantial evidence as fact? How could they be so blasé about accusing and sending a _former Auror,_ no less to prison on charges of treachery without a trial? Then something that Sirius had said in bitterness struck him. He was indicted for being a Black, for being a member of the pureblood society. That made the sham of an arrest a political conspiracy. Whom did this conspiracy target? Sirius mentioned the secret Order of the Phoenix, which Uncle King, Mad-Eye and Auror Jones had been a part of. Discrediting a member of the Order meant discrediting its leader first and foremost for lack of foresight and discretion. So, post-Voldemort, it would discredit Professor Dumbledore. It was a power struggle.

Harry was so lost in his musings as his thoughts turned to what would happen if he was betrayed that way. Would everyone assume it was Draco? He never noticed the creeping chill. It was only when the scabbed hand was almost inches from his shoulders did he look around and start screaming. Notwithstanding the blackness consuming him, he was dimly aware of another presence rattling within him. A presence that had red eyes.

It was to the angry mutterings of his Godmother and the gentle ministrations of his Aunt Andy that Harry woke up nearly five hours later. The angry and worried scowl that each of them wore was ominous to say the least. Kingsley just looked around in relief. Harry blinked as he tried to take in the surroundings. Then realising that he was in St. Mungo's he got up with a jerk.

"Professor Dumbledore... get him here now!" Harry rasped.

Alice looked at her godson in alarm. "Harry? Are you alright? Why are you asking for the professor?"

Her motherly concern seemed to reach right to the boy for he now adopted a very pleading voice as he said, "Please mum. I've quite a lot to tell."

Alice was simultaneously shocked and pleased with the boy, so he immediately called the Headmaster. By the time he came, Harry had achieved a semblance of calm. He was now through his second mug of hot chocolate as the warmth of Alice's panther Patronus washed over him. He was still shivering though, but whether that was due to the effect of the dementors or due to the red eyed presence he saw within him, he wasn't sure. For some reason, the arrival of his teacher calmed him down.

"I hear your visit to Azkaban was eventful, Harry. Something you have to tell me about?"

Barely managing to suppress a shudder, Harry replied, "You have no idea!"

Dumbledore spared him with a look before chuckling slightly. "Do start and proceed as you may."

Taking a huge, calming gulp of his drink, Harry said, "It was the dementors."

Dumbledore nodded, "I surmised as much."

"I went to meet Padf- I mean Sirius. Just so you know, he is innocent."

Everybody felt their eyes widening in disbelief. Alice looked at him closely and adopting a very placating tone, asked, "Are you sure Harry?"

"Dear Godmother, you know that absolutely nobody can hide things from me or lie to me, don't you?"

Dumbledore smiled slightly at the address. Then he visibly brightened at the opportunity. "Harry, he must have told you about the fact he never had a trial. Did he complain about me not arguing against such a sham?"

Harry held Dumbledore's gaze for a whole minute, before frowning and shaking his head. "If you don't want to be the Supreme Mugwump anymore, why not resign? Why use that lack of trial as an excuse? Why leave in disgrace?"

"You looked into me, didn't you? You must have. How did you settle on my ICW position, though, is beyond me."

"When a person is as excited as you are, my dear sir, and then mentally spouts quotes like "Power corrupts; absolute power corrupts absolutely", coupled with the fact that- please forgive me saying so- you are getting by in your years, and so don't want to leave Britain much and I have heard all the Aurors moaning-"

"We don't moan." Kingsley interrupted indignantly.

"- that you won't even think of accepting the Minister's post, one must come to the conclusion that you want to reduce the number of responsibilities you bear. That means you will want to let go of the international position. Hence, the inference. It's elementary Professor." The last was said with a cheeky grin.

Andromeda and Ted Tonks joined the Headmaster in a full-fledged laugh. It only served to bewilder the rest of the group.

Finally Alice lost her patience. "Will anybody tell me what these three are laughing their heads off about?"

Still chortling, the three had to spend a couple more minutes to get a grip on themselves. "Alice, young Harry showed the positive things he has carried into our world from his time with the muggles. There is a muggle detective Sherlock Holmes. I read it once when even I had absolutely nothing to do. He was employing- ah, _techniques_ \- elucidated in it, complete with a rendition of its most legendary quote. Though I must say, that particular quote never featured in the books." Then he turned to Harry, and dropping a bit of the mirth asked, "But that isn't why you asked to meet me, is it?"

"No sir. While I was with the dementors, I realised why my scar won't heal. It isn't a part of me. There is an entity. Red eyes, no nose, basically the features of a human snake. I realised just now, that Sirius kept calling Voldemort 'snake face'. That leads me to believe that some part of Voldemort resides in my scar. Extending the logic, it explains why I have two chosen wands. The Holly wand might have chosen the Voldemort attached to me. The calling, or, _bonded_ wand if you will, is truly mine."

The mirth that had cascaded across the room died an abrupt and horrible death as silence reigned. They looked at the boy as if as he had grown two heads, one of which was preparing to destroy their existence. Which, given what he had told them was essentially the truth.

Dumbledore was the first to recover from the shock. He got up abruptly and flooed off to Hogwarts, only to return with a grim expression and a delicate instrument that Harry had last seen on the Professor's table. This instrument he handed over to the boy, and tapped it with his wand. It rattled for a moment as Harry stared at it in fascination. Then, a white ethereal figure of Harry with a slight blackening above his eye rose out of it. He looked towards the professor intent on asking a clarification, but the words never left his mouth. The occupants of the room were now looking at him with faces filled with grief. Finally, with a bite of impatience, he demanded, "What exactly is all this?"

Dumbledore looked at him with weary eyes, eyes that made him look older than the truly old man he was. That by itself convinced Harry that something was wrong. Turning to the room as a whole, Dumbledore intoned gravely, "Andromeda, you are the expert here on spell damage and curses, aren't you? I will be giving you a few books about this. I am sure you don't know what this is. It is the darkest magic possible. How Harry has managed to stave it off is beyond me. Whatever he has done, he has managed to separate himself from it. What we now need is for him to be free of it. Alice, Kingsley, please call Frank and Alastor. I will explain better in their presence."

When the six adults had assembled in the ward, Dumbledore cast several privacy charms. "I am not going to keep this big a problem secret. That scar is Voldemort's Horcrux."

The gasps from the two former and two current Aurors told their own stories.

"Yes. It is that serious. A Horcrux is a soul anchor created in a ritual after premeditated, cold-blooded murder. The part of soul in Harry's scar is, in my opinion a sixty-fourth part of the soul. That means Voldemort has made five of those things, but at such a cost to his soul that Harry accidentally became one. Effectively he can't be destroyed till all of them are destroyed"

Harry was torn between fear, hatred and loathing. More than anything, though, he felt revulsion about the fact that he was carrying a part of the man who murdered his parents. "So that means both of us are a threat to the world. How very exciting!" he said dryly. "So, who's going to do the honours? I wouldn't mind going back to my parents."

The six adults were taken aback. No one had expected the complete lack of any sort of emotion in the boy's voice. They had expected at least a bit of fear. Alice finally broke the silence. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"I just asked who was going to destroy the Horcrux."

Dumbledore butted in here. "You are."

All eyes turned to the old man as he started smiling slightly. "You are a unique case. You can already communicate with the souls of those around you. Why not try and communicate with the souls within you? Your own soul is whole. That essentially means that it is far more powerful than the fractured piece in your scar. Study that piece. Learn its powers. I am sure that we can search its memories to find the locations of the other Horcruxes. We can destroy those. Once we achieve that, you can force the piece within you, out of the scar."

Everyone's expressions lightened at this pronouncement. Alice heaved a sigh of relief. She had lost ten years with her son. Now that she had regained her self and got one more son in the bargain, she was not going to let either go. Moody on the other hand was contemplative.

"Albus, are his Parseltongue abilities due to that thing? I just feel that the boy could overcome the powers of that piece, and go on to divest them. We can trust him to not be possessed by it. Maybe", he said turning to Harry, "you could analyse that thing, learn the techniques and magic for yourself, and then force it out. You won't go Dark. I am loathe to say this, but You-Know-Who as a teacher to a wise and intrinsically incorruptible person would be the ultimate case of know thy enemy. Just one thing, though. It would be wise to bring in someone trustworthy from the ministry, as high up as possible."

Everyone contemplated for a while on Mad-Eye's mad words of wisdom. It was true. Harry was as likely to go Dark as a flobberworm was. That however did not mean that he couldn't take in the knowledge that was on offer. This was to be seen as an opportunity instead of a tragedy.

Harry finally asked the question that still troubled him the most, though he wouldn't show it. "What if after everything else, I can't destroy the Horcrux?"

"Do you really think", asked Dumbledore, "that we would sit around twiddling fingers while you find the means to destroy Voldemort? We will find a way." He said it fiercely yet reassuringly at the same time. That seemed to placate Harry.

"I reiterate, I want this information to stay amongst us. We know the why and what of things. Nobody else should. I am going to make an Unbreakable Vow for all seven of us."

The rest of the room's occupants nodded in compliance. This was a secret that needed to remain one.


	5. Chapter 5

**And the journey begins...**

 **A/N:** Polite, therefore an OOC Ron and his _twin_ Ginny are introduced. There is something called an AU. This is part of it. Post this, Ron returns to what he is known to be. You shall pass the judgement. He is not bashed, of course, anywhere during the course of the story. In memory of Harmonious Cannons.

* * *

The morning of the 1st September, 1991 was could be best described as pandemonium at the Tonkses and Longbottoms. Urging four Hogwarts bound students to get ready; checking for wands, books and clothes; last minute instructions regarding staying away from mad poltergeists, reminders to write home (at both places for Harry), good-natured ribbing regarding the sorting; securing the pets; and most importantly co-ordination between the two houses regarding the time to reach the station was the order of the day.

When finally the two parties arrived at the station, the small problem of crossing over to the oddly numbered platform loomed large. "How exactly are they sure that the platform number is 9 ¾? Why not 9.729?" Such questions from one of the three boys meant that the elders were heartily wishing that they would be shot of the kids till Christmas and 11 o'clock couldn't be the time soon enough. This also meant that it wasn't the mortifying kisses on the cheeks, or hugs, or tears that accompanied their waves to the four as the train chugged out of the station. Rather, it was relief.

No sooner than they had snagged a compartment to themselves, the three boys dutifully held out their hands to Dora. Making an exceptional imitation of twin-speak, they decided to hold her to her end of the bargain.

"Dearest cousin Dora-" started Draco.

"- Your orders, disguised as requests-" continued Harry.

"-have been followed, as part of the deal." Neville completed.

"A Galleon each was the deal." (D)

"We hope that we needn't-" (H)

"– Use any special methods –" (N)

"– for collecting our dues," they exclaimed in unison. This final chorus left Dora rubbing her forehead exasperatedly.

"Here, you idiots. Take the infernal galleons. I hope you three don't get into Gryffindor. You may end up apprenticing with the Weasley twins and that will surely be the end of Hogwarts."

Draco dramatically clutched his heart and turning to his two friends, sighed, "She wounds us dear brothers-in arms! She wishes upon us the ignominy of not getting into the house of the brave!"

"We who loyally followed her words like good Hufflepuffs-" moaned Harry.

"- And took time to analyse them like proper Ravenclaws-" sniffled Neville.

"- before we made cunning plans like Slytherins and followed them up bravely like Gryffindors." They chorused again, each sporting an identically evil grin.

Dora wanted to be a fearless Auror. But this stream of conversation had her blanching and grimacing in fear as she hurried out of the compartment with a threat to "write to Aunt Cissy" if they tried pranks on the Sorting Hat, as the three roared with laughter.

* * *

They spent some time joking around as they lugged and heaved their trunks up on to the shelves. About ten minutes after the train had started, two redheads made their way to the compartment. Evidently they were twins, for they looked eerily similar, and had they not been brother and sister, they would have been indistinguishable.

"Anyone sitting there?" the brother asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

The three boys raised their eyebrows as one. "Really?" asked Draco, unable to keep the scepticism out of his voice.

The two newcomers grimaced. "Well, our three elder brothers find it insulting to sit with us, and we don't know anyone else much. The ones we know are all older than we are, and almost all the other first-years have got full compartments. The ones that don't have are the thugs Crabbe and Goy-"

"Ah! Crabbe and Goyle – the thugs; it's such an apt description. Welcome." Draco said affably.

The twins sat; relief clear on their faces. "Thank you. I am Ron, by the way, Ron Weasley."

"And I am Ginevra Weasley, though I would prefer being called Ginny", the girl supplied.

"Weasley?" cried Draco, Harry and Neville in unison.

"Yes?" asked Ron tentatively.

"Well," said Harry, "These are my friends, but really brothers, Draco Malfoy and Neville Longbottom. And Ron, before you ask Draco about his father, I beg you to please understand that he would rather be called his mother's son. So any Death Eater innuendo and it will be considered an insult. Insult him and you insult us all."

Ron looked aghast. "I never-"

"Ron, the first thing, if you are making our acquaintance is that nobody, including Professor Dumbledore can hide anything from me. So don't try lying."

Looking suitably abashed, Ron showed his contriteness through his response too. "Sorry, it's just that the name reminds me of my mother's rants. I am the Prewett twins' nephew."

Draco realized that he would have to make an effort here himself, and communicated that to Harry. "I know that my condolences, late as they are, Mr. Weasley, will mean nothing to you. I can only hope to ask for your understanding in this matter. I am not my father. My family is with these two, and Tonks. She was your brother Charlie's girlfriend wasn't she? She was distraught when he decided to go off after the Dragons. She is my first cousin. Her mother is my Aunt. But so was Bellatrix Lestrange. So I have the wrong sort of history with Neville too; but we are friends now, and in the short time we have come to know each other, as close as brothers. I can only hope that you can show the same consideration. I issue a formal apology from House Malfoy to the Houses of Weasley and Prewett."

They shook hands and then Draco raised his wand and muttered, "Lux est promissio." A small beam of light shone through his wand.

Ginny was looking at the proceedings rather intently. She then turned to Harry, and said, "You did introduce your friends. What about you?"

"I am sorry, Ms. Weasley. I am Harry Potter – pleased to make your acquaintance."

Ginny squealed and bolted from the compartment, just as Ron swore, "Bloody Hell!"

Harry sat bewildered and looked around the compartment mouthing, "What?" while Draco and Neville sniggered. He looked at Ron asking the same question silently.

Ron looked a bit ashamed at his sister's behaviour. "Well, Potter-"

"Harry, please", Harry interjected.

"Harry, then. You see, many girls were told your story and harbour a bit of a – well, massive –crush on you, if you get what I mean. Let's just call it a soft spot. My sister is one of those girls."

Harry looked positively green and suitably mortified. "Could you, er, please call your sister here? I need to clarify a few things."

Ron hastened to comply. As soon as the compartment door shut behind him, Draco and Neville burst out into gales of laughter. Harry looked at them angrily, unable to pluck them out of their mirth. Just as they regained control, the Weasley twins returned. The girl sat opposite Harry, wringing her hands with uneasiness, while the boy just shook his head.

"Ms. Weasley, I realise, that you have some unresolved issues with my presence here. Please first make yourself at home, first." Seeing no visible change, Harry sighed deeply.

"Ginny, did you know that we are related? We are cousins. Your grandmother Cedrella and my grandmother Dorea were second cousins. That makes us cousins. I-" he nodded to Draco and Neville who promptly got out of the cabin. "I must say, then, that your, er, _soft spot_ , as your brother so eloquently puts it, is very much inappropriate." (Ginny's interjection that her own parents were fourth cousins themselves was conveniently ignored.)

The effect was instantaneous. Ron, who was at unease, unable to find a way to converse with _the_ Harry Potter, smiled at him broadly. It wasn't the intention to claim any sort of relation, but it was something to put him at ease all the same. Ginny on the other hand seemed forlorn, looking as if somebody had slapped her with a freshly caught fish.

"I am sorry", she said thickly, "it is just you are the Boy-who-lived-"

Ron immediately realised that it was the wrong thing to say. The curt grimace that flashed across Harry's face was evidence enough of that. What he didn't understand was why it was so. He'd give his wand-arm to be the boy-who-lived. "You don't like it? You hate being the boy-who-lived thingy?"

"No, I HATE IT!" His vehemence caused the two Weasleys to flinch. Softening a bit, he continued, "What people don't realise is that I lost my parents that night. Everyone just gapes at that stupid scar, which just reminds me of my loss. It wasn't _me_ that defeated Voldemort. It was _my mother_. Truthfully, I would rather be with them than be famous for losing my parents."

Ginny seemed to be on the verge of tears. Ron just sat there ashen faced, while Neville and Draco stood in the compartment door, having returned upon hearing Harry's dulcet tones. Realising that he had just poisoned the compartment with his anger, he quickly cooled down. "I am sorry. It is just that I can't bear it when people think of me that way." He sat with his shoulders hunched and hung his head.

Deciding that the mood was bad enough to warrant drastic measures to salvage it, Draco asked brightly, "Anyone up for a game of exploding snap?"

Everyone nodded a little too enthusiastically, but the game that started, went on for almost two more hours, as the memory of Harry's outburst was forgotten.

* * *

When they reached Hogsmeade station that evening, the fabled giant form of Rubeus Hagrid met them. Though everyone had heard about him, only Harry had actually met him when he went to Hogwarts for the lessons by Professor Dumbledore, and they had bonded with each other over their love for animals. He waved out to him enthusiastically, just as he called out for the first years' attention. The giant of a man smiled happily, greeting him with an equally exuberant, "Alrigh' there, 'arry?" The group was soon enthralled

The five shared a boat that was to take them across the Black lake, adjusting themselves a bit (Neville got a swat across the back of his head for calling Harry a wraith which allowed all five to share a boat). Draco, acting on the whim of a sudden inspiration, whispered to Harry. "There's supposed to be a giant squid in there! Try to call it, why don't you?"

"Not now, mate. We have got unfamiliar company", he whispered back.

Draco shrugged. "I know. I only brought that up so we would look like we were planning something in secret." Both of them burst out laughing instantly.

"Well, it isn't a bad idea really, but we should delegate the execution to a later date. I have something planned for today", Harry said as he smiled enigmatically.

Soon, everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood. "Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbour, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door. Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

The door was opened by Professor McGonagall, resplendent in emerald green robes, her caring, maternal nature as Harry knew it, hidden behind her stern visage. She took them to a small chamber off the Great Hall, to give them a small lecture about the houses, house points, the house cup and just about everything related to discipline that had something to do with the houses. It finally got to Neville who muttered, "I never knew we were coming to Hogwarts to play House."

A bushy-brown haired girl was scandalised by that. She asked them in a shocked manner, "How can you be so nonchalant and blasé about such an important part of school life here? The House is an important part of the social structure-"

"Why", drawled Draco, "would I want to be pining for some House? My whole family on my paternal side, and nearly most of it on my mother's side, and Harry's and Neville's grandmothers respectively, were in Slytherin, where they go about with half-witted blood purity ideals. So essentially, we are split based on the wrong ideas in the first place. My cousin Nymphadora and her father, both were Hufflepuffs. Her mother was a Slytherin. Harry and Neville's parents were Gryffindors. What does it matter which House you are sorted into? It is just for the administrative purposes. They just want ways to split forty to fifty eleven year olds into manageable groups so that they can manage the timetable. Just for discipline and competition's sake there is that infernal House Cup. Who really cares? The only good thing about it all is the Quidditch Cup. For that one reason, I would like to be in the same House with these two gits."

Everyone but Neville and Harry looked at Draco as though he had just said that he was a going to snap his wand. Seeing that nobody could shake out of that stupor, the three simply shook their heads as the ghosts made an over-dramatic entry. Professor McGonagall soon led them in a line into the Hall. Seated at the table, behind the magnificent podium was Professor Dumbledore. Most people seemed to be in awe of him for his power. Harry respected the man for his achievements despite his mistakes, which the man at least had the candour to admit, if a tad bit late due to his vanity. What really took their breath away was the enchanted ceiling and the grandeur of the castle. Their musings were cut short however, by the garish song that the tattered old sorting Hat felt compelled to sing.

Professor McGonagall then stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. Soon, Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones made their way to the Hufflepuff table. Terry boot and Mandy Brocklehurst joined the Ravenclaws. Lavender Brown joined Gryffindor, followed by the cheer for Millicent Bulstrode, (who was leering at Draco in anger) joining Slytherin. On and on it went as the girl who had managed to get on Draco's wrong side, Hermione Granger was also sorted to Gryffindor. At last it was Neville's turn.

"Hmm... quite a change there has been in your demeanour and outlook in a very short time. It's nice to see that it hasn't changed you as a person. You wish to excel, but also wish to be loyal to the friends you have garnered. Brave soul that you are, you would better be a "GRYFFINDOR!""

Neville happily walked to the Gryffindor table as Draco and Harry muttered to each other in unison, "So that's where we will be."

Soon enough, after Morag McDougal was sorted to Ravenclaw, "Malfoy, Draco," was called out. McGonagall was watching this sorting in morbid fascination. If her fears were to hold true, the boy would be on his way to Gryffindor.

"A Gryffindor through and through, I can see; tempered by a little Slytherin cunningness and Ravenclaw wisdom. You're loyal to your friends and rather protective about them. Gryffindor, it is then. Go join you brother in, "GRYFFINDOR!""

It was obvious that only the two Head Professors and the five compartment mates were not surprised by the pronouncement. As he walked off to where Neville had saved him a seat pre-emptively, the Hall sat in a stunned silence. It took Dumbledore himself to start clapping for the Hall to follow. There were more stares and whispers, however, at the sorting of a known Death Eater's son into Gryffindor. That soon died down as the very last few names started to come up.

"Moon" . . . , "Nott" . . . , "Parkinson" (all in Slytherin) . . . , then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" (Ravenclaw) and "Patil" . . . , then "Perks, Sally-Anne" (both Gryffindors) . . . , and then, at last —

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

" _Potter,_ did she say?"

" _The_ Harry Potter?" asked someone else.

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. "Potter, Potter, Potter. What do I do with you? I have seen your decision to uphold justice, your lack of discrimination against magic, your will to do the right thing, ambition, and certain amount of cunning and devious wisdom, should you allow it to surface. You really are good enough for all the houses."

"Put me in Gryffindor then, with Neville and Draco. But now that you said it, about my being good enough for all the houses, will you humour me a bit? A little entertainment for everybody..."

"Son of the father... what shall I do?"

"Instead of announcing Gryffindor directly, just say Slyvenffledor or Gryffleclarin. I am going to be a little drama king and ask very innocently for Gryffindor."

"I should put you in Slytherin for that" the Hat retorted with a mental smirk. "Very well, be a "SLYVENFFLEDOR!""

"What?" The transfiguration teacher cried.

"GRYFFLECLARIN!" corrected the Sorting Hat.

Harry, by now, was having an extremely hard time trying to control the grin that threatened to split his face. The deputy headmistress however was irritated. She had foreseen a return of the troublemaking quartet, but had still hoped that the boy would be more like Lily. Her hopes had risen when she had met him as her god-grandson and he had shown a peculiar inclination to the consumption of knowledge and a generally people pleasing disposition that his mother had. It was obvious that at that moment however, he was channelling his inner James. She now had to stop this charade.

"Alistair, please choose the correct house. You are unnecessarily prolonging the proceedings."

"Madame, this student shows eligibility for each House equally. I need to confer with him to choose."

"Then do so without further delay!"

The Hat was silent for a few moments. Then, "He asks to be put into the House of his parents. So, it will be, GRYFFINDOR!"

This got a really loud cheer from the Hall, and Harry, smirking inwardly, but keeping a happy and wistful expression just nodded and walked off to Neville's other side, where his two friends mouthed, "show off!" while the elder Weasley twins (Fred and George; Ron had introduced them on the train), were celebrating the sorting with particular gusto. They were actually celebrating the idea of a person who would follow in their footsteps. Not everybody had the balls to prank the Sorting Ceremony, and use the Sorting Hat as an accomplice. Soon enough Ron and Ginny joined them at the Gryffindor table.

A scrawny, perpetually angry looking boy was called up for the sorting, "Yaxley, Thomas!"

For the first time since they had become really close friends, Neville and Harry saw Draco show more than visible anger, distaste, disgust and just about every bad feeling possible about the boy who was sorted into Slytherin. The two were puzzled a bit. Draco normally showed next to no emotion when something or somebody disappointed or even angered him. Yaxley, Nott and Parkinson however, had drawn more emotion from their friend in a matter of half an hour than they themselves had in over two months. Nodding to each other with an unspoken "later", they turned back to watch Blaise Zabini join the Slytherins too.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there. "Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

"It's obvious", Harry commented dryly, "that all year long, with really no class to teach and only the portraits of dead ex-head teachers and the Sorting Hat to talk to, the man has gone barmy. But he is a good kind of barmy, so who are we to say!" This terribly miffed Percy, who was scandalised that anyone could say such a thing about an authority figure.

After a really hearty dinner, Dumbledore rose again for the announcements. He was about to do so when Harry looked up at the table and froze. He waved his hand at the Headmaster frantically, fear showing quite cleanly on his face. Dumbledore beckoned him forward, an order which he obeyed immediately. He, very quietly, requested the Headmaster to increase the volume of his voice, and then in one swift action that nobody had expected, stunned the DADA teacher, Quirunus Quirrel. Without allowing time for anyone to show the shock that was still percolating in their collective consciousnesses, he spoke, "You may find me attention-seeking for my actions, but we were currently in very grave danger from this Professor. You may realise what or rather, who he is when I remove the turban."

And he proceeded to do just that. He turned the unconscious man around by grasping his shoulders, and dropped the turban. The screams from staff and students alike and the horrified stare from Dumbledore was proof enough that his theory was right; a theory that had formed as soon as his scar had hurt when he looked at the now prone man. He had momentarily gotten past the pain of the scar, as he slurred more than shouted. "You know what this is. LEAVE. LEAVE NOW."

Nobody needed a second warning. Tonks, Draco and Neville however, surreptitiously hung back. So did, most of Gryffindor. Harry's housemates were literally dragging their feet. They watched as Harry turned to the man and tried to hoist him into his chair with Dumbledore's help. Harry caught his head as it was flopping of its own volition in the stunned state and everyone saw the two screaming with pain. Quirrel though seemed to be beyond pain as his features began to distort and burn at Harry's touch, and soon, there was nothing but a mist rising above them all which shouted, "You have foiled me again, Harry Potter, but I shall return, stronger than ever before!" The mist rose with the snake-like visage of Lord Voldemort and seemed to float away as Harry, laughing maniacally, waved him off, "Goodbye Mouldy shorts!" and then slumped to the ground in a dead faint.

* * *

It was almost three days later, that Alice and Frank, dozing in the chair beside the infirmary bed, woke to another bout of laughter from Harry. He went on and on for about five minutes or so, during which the two had time to call Dumbledore and a frightened Minerva McGonagall. They watched as the boy laughed and laughed, finally the laughter dying down to a few whimpers and then to outright sobs. Almost ten minutes after he had first woken, Harry reached a state nearing coherence.

Finally, looking around them all, he smiled weakly, and meekly said, "Hello!"

Alice who had to be given Calming Draughts was feeling just so, unnaturally calm. Her words though, when they could have gotten out in full force would have trembled with rage. Her volume was still louder than anyone had heard from her before, "HARRY JAMES POTTER! What possessed you to go after You-Know-Who by yourself on the first day of school? Couldn't you have told the Professors? Couldn't you have asked for help? I am your Godmother for Heaven's sake! What was I to tell Li-?"

"Aunt Alice! Please listen! I knew as soon as I looked at the man that he was Voldemort! Don't flinch! Don't you dare flinch at that name! If I had told the Professors, wouldn't he have managed to somehow know that his game was up? Wouldn't he have tried to escape? Worse still, and this is typically what Professor Dumbledore do, would there not have been a wait and watch policy on what exactly he was here for?"

Dumbledore cringed at this accusation. The boy knew exactly the way he would have behaved.

"What if he wasn't taken by surprise? What if he had tried some sort of hostage situation when found out? What if he had released some sort of Dark Magic in the castle? Now that I think of it however, it is inconceivable that he would return here nearly ten years after losing his body, just to teach or even meet me or something. It is obvious that there is something in this castle that drew him here apart from-" here he looked significantly at Dumbledore and then at McGonagall to convey that this was sensitive information. The old man cottoned on quickly.

"Minerva, I think you should inform the teachers about Mr. Potter's revival and that he will soon be able to return to his classes."

She however was having none of it. "Albus!" she scolded the Headmaster in a strident tone, "I am not here as his teacher! He is James's son. I am here in that role!"

It was now a quandary. Albus looked at Harry intently, and with the thought of whether or not they could include her in Voldemort's secret. Harry looked over at the Transfiguration teacher and stared for a full minute, then returned his gaze to Dumbledore and nodded with a slight smile. Without delay, she was brought in on the all facts, truths and secrets (barring Harry's scar), and the Vow was administered. They then turned to Harry again.

"You were saying?"

"What have you hidden at Hogwarts that Voldemort needs? How did he know that whatever he needs is now at Hogwarts? Why was it here in the first place? This is a school! And don't you dare tell me a lie, Professor! As for the other thing, I need somebody who knows the castle much better than you do. I don't mean this as a slight to you, but Voldemort was reasonably sure that the thing was hidden in a place that even you didn't know about. First though answer my questions!"

Dumbledore sighed deeply, immediately drawing an irritated headshake from Harry. Realising that he was treading on thin ice against a boy from whom he couldn't defend any thought or fact, he delivered the truth in a quiet monotone, "Nicholas Flamel's Philosopher's Stone. He must have wanted it for the Elixir of Life. We had agreed to keep it safe at Hogwarts because-"

"Yes, right because Hogwarts is the safest place in the wizarding world other than Gringotts. Close to four hundred students and staff reside here, Professor. What gave you the idea that nobody would stumble across it? You must have used some highly improbable defences, in that it would be highly improbable for people to think of them, not improbable to break them. Was that supposed to be a perfect diversion? Wherever you put it, did you cast a Fidelius charm? Any notice me not charms? Was there anything pertaining to privacy? It is in that blasted third floor corridor, I know that. You were going to announce it. What then? How many kneazles would have been killed by their curiosity? Blimey, the Aurors throw a new student out for that sort of incompetence!"

As Harry's words flew thick and fast, the two Professors had the decency to look abashed. Every word was true. In keeping the stone, they had forsaken their duty to the school. They had severely endangered the students, not to mention allowing a realistic chance for Voldemort to return.

"Be that as it may, the more important thing is he has converted Ravenclaw's crown into a Horcrux. It is in the castle. He has given a golden cup with a badger on it to Bellatrix Lestrange which she has placed in her vault Gringotts. I found out about the cup from the _homework_ you assigned me. The other one I found out today. You will also need me for both. They have Parseltongue passwords over the protective curses."

Here Frank perked up a bit. "We can claim Bellatrix's vault through the Wizengamot as payment for her crimes."

Harry beamed at him. "Excellent. That will help us set the order in which the things were created... on that note Uncle Frank, ask the Goblins to destroy it for you. They will want an audit of all things in it anyway; all you have to do is ask them to segregate the Dark artefacts and remove the magic in your presence for the cup only. That way when it comes to the rest (here he discretely brushed his hair from his scar; an action that Alice caught), we can keep the inherent magic in the objects. Goblins are proud people. They won't allow their handiwork to be destroyed." While everyone else agreed, Dumbledore fought to keep the livid grimace off his face.

"I was a fool today. I shouldn't have touched him." Harry soon relapsed into the trauma of the death that occurred, supposedly at his hands.

Then he went into distress again and in a hysterically high voice, nearly shouted, "I killed a man!" over and over again.

They realised that not a day into Hogwarts, Harry had already had his first brush with evil, and it had taken away his innocence.

* * *

Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room the following Saturday, hale and hearty but worried about the fact that he had killed a teacher on the first day of School. He needn't have bothered, however. He got a raucous welcome and he came in amid cheers and blowing horns. Fred and George Weasley had gone so far as to raise a board.

 **Harry Potter: Gryffindor**

 **Defeating Lord Voldemort since 1981**

Harry grimaced as he was soon pulled into a seat of the main party by Neville, Draco and the younger Weasley twins. He explained exactly what happened after he realised that it was Voldemort. He purposely kept out the part regarding the Philosopher's Stone. They in return told him that nothing had yet been taught by the teachers as the castle had undergone a thorough check by the Aurors. Some students had written home about the whole fiasco, and the Minister had compelled Dumbledore into allowing the checks. They had taken away a Cerberus and a whole plantation of Devil's Snare. He responded by relaying the verbal bashing that he had handed the Headmaster.

The only bad part in the matter was the fact that people were now sending him letters and gifts. Several of them were mortifyingly inappropriate.

"So there really is a Philosopher's Stone?"

"That's what he said Nev!" drawled Draco. "What irks me is the fact that the old man was senile enough to store such a thing in a bloody school! Way to go!" he finished clapping sarcastically.

"I am going to write to Sirius about this. He must know. That reminds me. I have to go over the Auror Laws." Harry had started poring over the laws, rules and regulations required to be followed by an Auror while arresting a suspect. He was comparing the matter with Sirius's case file and jotting down the discrepancies, to create a strong case against the ministry for illegal incarceration.

They sat poring over the books, and started with a list which was to be sent over to Uncle Ted who would be representing the ex-Auror. It was a heavy book, and seeing them engrossed, no one tried to bother them. In fact, the Weasley brother and sister duo went so far as to gawk at them for studying without anything being taught. It was around 11 that evening that the crowd started to thin out. They had made a rather commendable list.

· Arrest without proof

· Incarceration of suspect without trial for more than three months.

· Protocol for trial not followed.

· Wand not checked; snapped without following protocol, causing severe loss to defendant's magical ability.

· Preventing Auror from performing duty.

· Non-compliance of protocol regarding health of defendant.

· Right to interrogation under Veritaserum denied.

· Right to present pensieve memories denied.

· Discrimination against defendant based on family ties and name (minor charge).

· Perjury to court by Aurors on duty.

· Deprivation of custody of minor as charged by the legal decision of the head of a Most Ancient and Most Noble House.

· Wrongful confinement of Heir and then Head of a Most Ancient and Noble House.

· Wrongful confinement leading to loss of the line of a Most Ancient and Noble House, unless said Head of House was released.

They kept on with their work when they became aware of another presence in their midst. Hermione Granger was looking at them inquisitively and froze as she looked the list over. The four stared at each other uncertainly, as this was a secret that was not to be divulged.

"I – I don't mean to pry, but may I know what you are doing?" she asked.

Automatically, Draco and Neville turned to Harry, asking him the same question silently. Harry in turn looked her straight in the eye and searched her deeply. Finally, apparently satisfied, Harry decided to break the ice.

"Hermione Jean Granger, born to two dentists, living in Crawley? Derided and shunned by primary schoolmates for obsession with knowledge and books. You played as a winger for the school junior girls' football team. Excessive worship of authority figures towards whom you turned to protection before you came to Hogwarts. You are a bit unsure as to how to put that behind and make new friends here. You are also a bit scared, so, to mask that, you have learnt all your books by heart. Am I right in my assessment?"

Hermione looked at him aghast and slumped into a seat. "How did you know?"

"It is my business to know other people's business Ms. Granger."

Draco cut in here. "Don't pay attention to my idiotic and uglier brother. He likes to spout Sherlock Holmes one-liners for some unknown reason."

Hermione gave a reluctant smile. "It is true. Perhaps, now that you know, you might not want to be friends with a bookworm like me." Her sadness percolated into every word.

"You know, you really shouldn't assume things. We are your friends, but we have a condition."

She looked at them with questioning eyes,

"We call Draco Dragon or silly dragon if we feel like it; Neville is Nev; and we can't shorten my name; it's short enough as it is and not poncy like Draco's is. Similarly, we will call you something else. Your choice as to what you'd like."

For the first time in the week since she had come to Hogwarts, Hermione Granger felt a true smile break across her face. Here were people who shared her passion for books to a certain extent, knew her background somehow, and wanted to be her friends on the silliest condition she had ever heard. "Let it be anything but Hermi, then – perhaps Minnie? It's the most obvious."

They all beamed at each other.

"So now that I am Minnie, may I know what you are up to?"

It was an unspoken agreement between the three that if Harry trusted someone enough, the person was trustworthy. So they launched into a full-fledged explanation regarding Sirius, his incarceration, and why they all wanted him free. Soon she found herself being told about how they had come to know each other, including the details about Draco's father and Neville's parents. She was astounded when Harry delved into her own childhood and assured her that she was cast out by her peers for being superior, which was something they wouldn't do.

"So that is it about us Minnie. We don't keep secrets between us. We have kept two of Harry's secrets from everyone. But he divulged one to you. He is, to put it in the most simplistic terms a soul or aura reader. But he is prat enough to act on things. The other secret too has to be seen. When you will see it, he will explain. Till that time, please don't delve into it", said Neville, making sure that she knew the ground rules.

They sat in companionable silence for some time, Minnie really happy to be trusted with some of their deepest secrets. Most of all, she marvelled at Harry, and his seemingly effortless transition into the magical world. It was then that Neville mused, "We never trusted anyone that quickly, you know. How did we make an exception with her?"

"I don't know Nev. I just went with my gut feeling. We didn't tell the Weasleys everything, did we?"

"Of course you wouldn't. Hell, I wouldn't tell that bloody giggly girl anything..." Draco muttered.

And in her first contribution to the proceedings, Minnie chastised him for his language.

The four soon fell into an easy camaraderie, attending classes together, wandering around the castle, reading books from the library, completing their assignments. For all intents and purposes, they were having as normal a time as was magically possible. They first of all went and met Tonks who had avoided Harry like a plague since the first day of school. It was particularly irritating for them as it finally necessitated a proper confrontation. It was only after chasing her around for half an hour on the following Saturday that she finally was cornered by the trio.

"Why are you three sticking like burrs to me?"

"That would be because you are completely avoiding us. Why aren't you talking to us?" complained Harry.

"You are one to talk", she snorted. "I was supposed to be looking out for you three. First you make a big show at the sorting. Then you go on and take down You-Know-Who in the next hour. What am I to do then? It was supposed to be my duty to ensure that you lot don't get into trouble. You didn't even let me start." Her voice had risen to such a volume that the three boys were cowering by the end. The onslaught didn't end however. "I AM SUPPOSED TO BE YOUR ELDER BLOODY SISTER. YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO LISTEN TO ME, AND COME TO ME WHEN YOU FIND A PROBLEM, NOT HANDLE IT ON YOUR OWN, HARRY JAMES POTTER!"

"Yes ma'am", they said in unison, with a very pitiful expression, that Tonks finally calmed down and gathered them all in a hug.

"Mum sent me a howler, you know, for not taking care of you."

"Sorry Dora. Won't happen again" they chimed together.

Dora only snorted disbelievingly in response.

Soon after they left the room, Minnie accosted them. "How did it go?"

Their silent nods and grimaces were answer enough.

* * *

The lessons themselves were intriguing to say the least. Harry found himself drawn towards the wand-based magic and tended to excel in Charms and Transfiguration. The defence classes were covered by other professors intermittently, so more often than not, they were just components of an introductory course on hexes, jinxes and curses which often seemed good enough only as a joke. Highly irritated by the whole sham, but knowing that any complaint against it would only fall on deaf ears, for Dumbledore had admitted that Quirrel was the only applicant, letters soon found their way to Alice, Frank, Kingsley, Alastor and even Sirius (he would intermittently slip in rather creative uses for various charms and hexes and spells).

The potions class was for Harry and Neville an unmitigated disaster. Having read books on muggle science, he had developed an inexplicable distaste towards chemistry, and this subject went too close to potions. It wasn't helped by the fact that the first lecture itself was the start of doom. Professor Severus Snape (Snivellus, as Sirius called him), started off with a rapid fire questionnaire related to ingredients, which Harry had answered as honestly as he could, if he knew the answers. Snape, however, was trying his level-best to get on Harry's bad side. Hermione and Draco, on the other hand were extremely excited as they both knew all the answers. This lost them all House points. In most cases, neither of the four would have really bothered, but then Snape started spouting insults to Hermione. That was when Harry bored into the man deeper and deeper. His inroads into the soul of Severus Snape were causing severe changes to the normally calm and decent face of the boy; it now looked purely demonic.

"Five points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all, Mi-", started the man, blustering into the worst disaster that he could have imagined.

All of a sudden, he was hanging upside down from the ceiling, with Harry making him turn cartwheels in the air. It drew sharp gasps from the class, as Harry stood with air of a man facing a mortal fight.

"UNHAND ME POTTER!" yelled the potions master.

He didn't realise that he was facing an adversary who wasn't going to budge an inch, and worse still, had gotten him to bare his entire life without knowing about it.

"Why would I do that, Snivellus? Don't you look fetching as a bat, in the dungeons, hanging from the ceiling? What have you got against Minnie?" The questions may have been asked in a calm light manner, but there was no doubting the anger that made every syllable tremble beneath that surface. Severus Snape, for the first time in his life, found himself facing James _and_ Lily Potter's son, not just some Potter. At that moment however, he was a Professor, and he was going to prove it to the brat. It didn't fail to strike him, even in his incandescent rage, that Harry had taken the same action as his father.

"This could get you expelled Potter, as I had told Dumbledore. You are just the arrogant, bullying son of –", his rant was cut-off by Harry's cold hatred permeating through his voice.

"– James and Lily Potter, and am also the godson of Alice Longbottom. You filthy Death Eater, you should be rotting in Azkaban. You sold them all to Voldemort personally. Then you came grovelling to the old man, asking for forgiveness and asked him to protect my mother because you thought she was your friend. What about the Longbottoms then? If the Headmaster saved you, as it seems he has, then it is another addition to the litany of mistakes that he has committed. You were willing to let my father and me be dead, something that my mother would never allow. You were willing to sell my godmother, her husband and son. Need I say more? You want me to unhand you, Snivellus? I will allow that only when you share Bellatrix's cell, and tell her that we all live in spite of her tender ministrations." Harry then proceeded to drop him unceremoniously to the floor, a crunch emanating from the place where the Potions Master was heaped telling the sorry tale of broken bones.

"I will let you know, you bastard, it wasn't any of your past criminal activities, which the Headmaster so _graciously forgave_ , it was you calling Minnie a jumped up mudblood, even if it was in your head. Remember another jumped up, red-headed, mudblood know-it-all in the summer of 1976? She was protected by a group whom you, Death Eater, called a bunch of bullies. Anyone who you bully now will have the same protection from me. Your master is not dead as you saw last week. Let him try, I will make sure he takes you and every other slave of his _on_ with him when he finally leaves us. Remember that you owed a Life Debt to one of them, and then conspired to cause that person's death. I will call it on you when the time comes, as is my right. Even Dumbledore won't be able to save you then."

He then cast a quick _Diffindo_ on the man's robes' left sleeve to expose the Dark Mark in its partly faded glory for all to see and collected his things and stalked out of the classroom, leaving behind a rather stunned and mostly angry group of students.

* * *

Snape reported the incident with several embellishments, including gloating, attacking a teacher and use of unknown curses to an extremely incensed McGonagall and Dumbledore, only for Draco, Neville and Hermione to foil him by suggesting the whole class as a witness and offering their own memories as evidence (they had studied the evidence gathering material in the book they had been studying for Sirius). They had had the pleasure of watching a very oddly satisfying spectacle: that of Harry's accusations causing Dumbledore to go red with anger and green as if he were about to be sick. The icing on the cake was an irate McGonagall blowing her head off at the old man.

"So", she said pinning the two gentlemen professors with a deathly cold gaze. "You have each a hand in killing James and Lily, at least indirectly?"

Dumbledore started blustering about it. "Now look here, Minerva, you have no proof." His normally twinkling eyes held none of the twinkle now.

"No proof, Albus? I will have you know, that I will take every word that exits the boy's mouth in almost every matter as proof. You tried to do away with me when I asked to meet him when he woke again after the fiasco on the 1st of September. He was giving information that you wanted and didn't want to share. You keep your secrets while keeping a facade that you trust the rest of us. It is demeaning. He made it clear that he did not know whether or not I could be trusted, which, frankly is the right way; forthright but not insulting. You asked him to look at me and I know that he judged me. You take his word as proof, so will I. I asked him after that day about what he had been looking for. That boy told me everything. He trusted me enough to tell me some of his secrets and also that he had some secrets he wasn't comfortable to divulge, yet. So, yes, his word is proof enough for me. What's more, my colleagues will now know exactly why you have kept your pet Death Eater here"

She then proceeded to storm out of the Headmaster's office leaving three very confused but pleased students and two colleagues dreading her ire.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore looked morosely at the group seated in front of him. Alice had received a letter from both her son and her godson separately, and had wasted no time before turning up at the gates of Hogwarts, giving Hagrid only a perfunctory nod in greeting as she strode towards the castle faster than the thestral-drawn carriages could have taken her. Frank had followed her dutifully. It was only a fool who tried to pacify Alice Longbottom when she was in one of her rages. It was something common to most witches – magic seemed to amplify both their anger and maternal protectiveness.

Harry was glaring defiantly and angrily at his Headmaster, and Dumbledore, for the life of him, couldn't truly meet the boy's eyes. At that moment he was torn between wanting to pacify the people seated around him, and truly appreciating the fact that he was Lily and James' son. In one fell stroke, Severus had been rendered useless by the boy, and he hadn't wasted the opportunity of replicating his father's treatment of the dour Potions Master. For better or for worse, it was a blow to the standing of the man for both sides. By his side, Alice was glaring equally viciously, as was Frank. Severus was sitting to the side, his face a picture of distaste and detestation.

"So, Dumbledore, you not only save the man who destroyed our families, but inflict this abomination on my children?" Alice's tone was acidic.

"Just one of those is your child, Longbottom," Snape spat.

"Well, she is my godmother. You did help kill my mum after all, Death Eater!"

"As I told you, Albus!" complained Severus. "The brat is just like his father!"

"Quite true," answered Frank calmly. "James really hated Death Eaters."

"Severus has my complete trust," Albus declared.

"And yet you flicker within when you say that," piped Harry.

Albus shut up. He had quite forgotten how the problem had come up in the first place.

Harry pressed his advantage. "It seems you too are dithering after all. How can you trust a man who was a Death Eater, among those whose discriminatory behaviour and bigotry was stretched to such an extent that they turned to murder? Now here you have a man who called his supposed 'best friend' a mudblood, and then a few years later, when the object of his obsession was endangered, came begging for help and clemency, offering inside information. Now you find your weakness, your desire to see the best of people being preyed upon by a man who goes back to thinking of an eleven-year-old a mudblood..."

"SHUT UP!" roared Snape. "JUST SHUT UP! HOW THE HELL DO YOU KNOW? YOU TOLD HIM DIDN'T YOU ALBUS? YOU TOLD HIM! YOU BETRAYED ME!"

Albus looked truly stricken as he denied it. "I swear I didn't, Severus. I don't ever need to tell anyone anything, particularly Harry. I told you to control yourself, and **_you_** couldn't!"

"You don't trust me anymore, do you? You will take Potter's word. I am no use to anyone, after all, now that the brat has exposed me..."

"Now you are giving a sob story," Alice interrupted with a malicious glare at Snape. "Now that you are exposed as the one who the Death Eaters perceived as one of the two who led Voldemort to his temporary downfall, and are exposed to Dumbledore as a liar, you will have to finally display who you are really loyal to – yourself!"

"I don't have to listen to this. If I have to make my way onwards, I will, and I shall not bother with any of you. You included, Albus," the man spat.

"Oh, do accept a parting gift from me!" Harry pled in fake joy.

"Just because you can kill one man doesn't mean I am as easy to kill, boy!"

"Please stop this!" Albus finally made himself heard over the warring parties. "Severus, you are both right and you are both wrong. I trust him, but yes I find my trust wavering. I gave you a second chance, and you spat on it."

"What proof do you have but the brat's and the mudblood's word?"

"There's the problem, Severus. You so strive to implicate yourself that I have no option but to believe them." Albus really expected better from him.

"What are you going to do? Hand me over to the DMLE?"

"I do want to. I so very want to do so, believe me. But that would make his position untenable," Alice admitted. "Now that Voldemort is confirmed to not be dead, he is still needed – if only as a figurehead. We would have no problem if you left Britain and never came back, really. The next time I see your face, I really will ensure that you get the Dementor's Kiss for your role in the murders of James and Lily."

"Oh then you better do that now," Snape retorted hatefully. "When the Dark Lord returns, he will call me back to his side!"

"Are you threatening an Auror?" Frank asked, just as Severus' sleeve was torn again.

"What are you doing, brat?"

 _"_ _Finite!"_ hissed Harry in Parseltongue, pointing his wand at the Dark Mark. The others all watched in horror as Snape screamed in unbearable agony as the black snake protruding out of the skull tore itself from his skin. It slithered out at an ever so slow pace, unravelling the skull as it lengthened. It seemed as if the pain would be enough to kill Severus Snape, but the man was made of sterner stuff, apparently. Snape's voice had gone hoarse as he could no longer scream, even though the agony wouldn't subside, till finally the snake slithered onto the floor. Alice, Frank and Dumbledore were quick o cast cutting curses on the beast, which was gearing up to attack Harry.

Miraculously, Snape was still alive at the end of the ordeal. He had, however, lost any semblance of dignity, as he laid whimpering and sobbing on the floor.

"Now you have no excuse," Harry dispassionately declared.

Albus crouched down to his soon-to-be former Potions Master and checked his vitals and the hand that bore the Mark. While the pulse was erratic, it was certainly slowing down as the pain impulses were slowly receding. The hand though, it was already healing! Turning to the boy and his new family, the old man gaped. All Albus could do was stare at Harry Potter in wonder, really.

It was a long half hour before Severus could even summon enough energy to move, let alone sit up. And it was only on the hour's mark when he had accumulated enough energy to croak, "What made you do that?"

"The black colour, which you willingly bore, was tightening around you, making your own dull blue blacker and blacker. It was just an experiment. If you were cured, it would help in the future. If not, I didn't owe you any pity or sympathy."

Severus flexed his hand twice as the feeling returned. He also felt miraculously light, and as much as he wanted to shout and get angry, he just couldn't. He was free. He was finally free!

"I will remember this Potter," he promised. Yet, as he would have in the time before he was truly freed, the promise wasn't one of retribution – it was one of gratitude.

Harry only shrugged. "You can start by not being an unmarked Death Eater."

In the end, Snape gave an Unbreakable Vow to totally renounce bigotry in all forms and to forever stay away from any Potter or Longbottom. He was thankful that he had not been given the mandate to leave Britain. He owed Potter a debt of gratitude, whether the brat recognised it or not. Now that he was truly free and his own man, for the first time in his life, he decided he would repay the debts accrued to the father and son - if only to honour the memory of Lily Potter. For whether they called her an obsession, or whether he thought her to be his true love, the fact remained that she was his first, truest, and only friend.


End file.
